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The Kremlin’s Arctic Dreams.

Geo-Strategic Implications

for Russia and the World in 2040

Nitze School of Advanced International Studies

Johns Hopkins University

1619 Massachusetts Ave. NW

Washington, DC 20036

(b) (7)(C)

(b) (7)(C)

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CONTENTS

1. EXECUTIVE SUMMARY…p. 4

2. REPORT…p. 17

1. INTRODUCTION…p. 17

1.1. The Complexities of the Arctic Debate…p. 17

1.2. The Geographical Arctic and its Political and Institutional Landscape…p. 18

1.3. The Arctic: Not a new Geopolitical Pivot, but a Balance Shifter…p. 22

1.4. Strategic Drivers of Russia‘s Objectives in the Arctic…p. 24

1.5. The Arctic as a Domestic Challenge: Rethinking Russia‘s Human

Geography…p. 26

2. EXPECTED CLIMATE CHANGE AND ITS IMPACT ON RUSSIA…p. 31

2.1. Expected Climate Change in the Arctic…p. 31

2.2. Russia Facing Climate Change and New Economic Patterns…p. 35

2.3. Russia‘s Stance and Debates on the Climate Change…p. 41

3. ARCTIC AS A NARRATIVE COMPONENT OF THE

NATIONHOOD…p. 47

3.1. An Old Anchored Pattern: The Stalinist ―Red Arctic‖…p. 47

3.2. A Flagship for the New Russian Statehood…p. 49

3.3. Nationalist Fiction and Projection on the Arctic…p. 51

3.4. Growing ―White Nationalism‖ in Russia…p. 54

3.5. A Communication Tool: Structuring an Arctic Brand for Russia…p. 56

4. THE RUSSIAN STANCE ON TERRITORIAL CONFLICTS IN THE

ARCTIC…p. 61

4.1. The Soviet Historical Reference: The 1926 Decree…p. 62

4.2. Russian Claims on the Arctic Continental Shelf…p. 63

4.3. The Russian-U.S. Agreement on the Bering and Chukchi Seas…p. 66

4.4. The Barents Sea Issue and its 2010 Solution…p. 68

4.5. The Dispute around the Svalbard/Spitzenberg Archipelago…p. 71

5. RUSSIAN MILITARY STRATEGY: PROJECTION OF POWER AND

CAPACITIES OF ACTION…p. 74

5.1. Russia‘s Renewed Strategic Activism in the Arctic…p. 74

5.2. Upgrading the Northern Fleet and Nuclear Deterrence…p. 78

5.3. Waiting for the Next-Century Russian Army…p. 80

5.4. Projecting Future Military Power in the Arctic…p. 84

6. ARCTIC WEALTH: RESOURCE NATIONALISM OR COOPERATIVE

PATTERNS?...p. 89

6.1. The Force of Statistics? The ―Arctic Bonanza‖…p. 89

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6.2. The Costs and Risks of Arctic-Based Energy…p. 95

6.3. Oil and Gas Companies: Patterns of Competition or Cooperation?...p. 98

6.4. The Arctic as a Mineral Eldorado?...p. 102

6.5. The Revival of the Fishing Industry…p. 104

7. THE NORTHERN SEA ROUTE: INTERNATIONAL AND DOMESTIC

SHIPPING ISSUES…p. 110

7.1. Sovereignty Issues in the Russian Arctic Straits…p. 111

7.2. Myths and Realities of an International Trans-Arctic Trade Lane…p. 114

7.3. The NSR as a Domestic/Destinational Route…p. 119

7.4. Modernizing the Fleet and the Shipyard Sector…p. 121

8. RUSSIA’S CHALLENGE: SPACE AND POPULATION PATTERNS…p.

129

8.1. The Russian Demographic Puzzle…p. 130

8.2. Populating the Arctic: Indigenous Peoples and a Shrinking Russian

Population…p. 133

8.3. The Migration Future of Russian Workforce: On the Road to Polar

Islam?...p. 136

8.4. The Fragmentation of the Territory: Russia as an Archipelago…p. 140

8.5. The Many Arctics of Russia…p. 142

8.5.1. The Murmansk-Arkhangelsk Arctic, a European Trans-border Region…p. 143

8.5.2. A Hydrocarbons and Mineral Central Arctic…p. 144

8.5.3. The Sakha Arctic: Looking both North and South…p. 146

8.5.4. The Bering Arctic: The American and Asian Neighborhood…p. 147

Notes…p. 151

Bibliography…p. 171

3. SUMMARIZING IMPORTANCE OF THE ISSUE FOR THE U.S. DEFENSE AND

SECURITY PLANNING COMMUNITY…p. 189

4. THREE SCENARIOS FOR 2040…p. 192

Scenario 1. A White Russia in control of the ―Land of Tomorrow‖… p. 195

Scenario 2. ―Not only polar bears are protected‖: Arctic on its way to an Antarctic

Status…p. 204

Scenario 3. Russia‘s Arctic as a Mirror of the twenty-first century: Polar Islam and Chinese

Business…p. 212

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1. EXECUTIVE SUMMARY

REPORT

1. Introduction

The Arctic is not the new geopolitical pivot-point of the twenty-first century, but it will be one of

the balance shifters in the global equilibrium of power.

The Arctic will set the tone for evolving relations between twenty-first century actors: states,

private actors, NGOs, populations, and supranational organizations.

Expected climate change constitutes an important element of the global picture, but the future of

the Arctic is not limited to it. Certain strategic factors and economic components could develop

without climate change.

A global geo-strategic uncertainty in the Arctic pushes certain states like Russia not toward

conflict but toward proactive policy in order to diminish this uncertainty.

Heightened potential for accidents (collisions of ships or oil spills), for small-scale tensions (over

mineral or fish stock resources) that could suddenly degenerate, or for misinterpretations of

attitudes of the other players creates security risks in the Arctic.

Perceptions of threats and projections of power constitute major elements in the Arctic security

debate.

The Arctic does not face a real risk of conflict but is a legitimate security concern.

The growing role of non-Arctic powers, mainly Asian ones, can be an element of stability but

also a component of strategic escalation. Their role in the Arctic balance needs to be carefully

monitored, especially because China, Korea, and Japan could partly transfer their mutual

tensions to this region. The Russia-China axis of convenience, already complex, will be

influenced by the relation in the Arctic.

Moscow views the world through its fear of being confined to the periphery of international

decision-making. The focus on the Arctic suddenly opens new options, albeit ones that are

ambitious and largely disconnected from its actual capacities. Russia hopes to gain a dynamic,

innovative place on the international scene, and to be seen as more than a merely symbolic

player in the world balance.

Russia‘s global geopolitical fundaments are moving. The Arctic Ocean was an aspect of

geopolitical containment for Russia‘s competitors and a secure major transport route for

Moscow. Today, this balance has shifted. Russia could suddenly present itself as a maritime

state, break its encirclement in a direction until now unused, but at the same time find itself with

a new border to protect.

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The spatial projection of Russia in general and of landlocked northern Eurasia in particular

would emerge drastically changed.

Russian strategic thinking on the Arctic is formulated on a long-term perspective. For Moscow,

the Arctic is not its back door, but its potential twenty-first century front door.

The Kremlin thinks that maintaining the status quo in terms of strategic equilibrium has almost

always been unfavorable to Russia for the past two decades. For this reason, although Russian

foreign policy is fundamentally reactive, Moscow‘s approach to the Arctic is pro-active.

Russia hopes to find in the Arctic a solution to its economic dead-end. The central problem that

the Kremlin must face is that of rising costs and diminishing capabilities.

The Russian regime is fixated on three pillars: financial autonomy, energy security, and domestic

stability. However, these pillars do not always seem to have compatible priorities, and they have

divergent timeframes over the short, medium, and long term.

Russia faces an unprecedented demographic crisis and lack of workforce, particularly the

educated workforce. But Russia also believes that the size and location of its territory can ensure

the survival of the country. The Arctic therefore illustrates Russia‘s current crossroad of whether

demography or geography will be its destiny.

2. Expected Climate Change and its Impact on Russia

Though a general consensus on global climate change exists, the role of anthropogenic factors is

still largely debated, as are strategies of mitigation. Such strategies have an enormous cost on the

economy for an effect that has yet to be demonstrated or will possibly only be minimal.

The historical tradition of the Soviet school of thinking on climate does not compel Russian

scientists to give an alarmist reading of changes in climate. They criticize the current ―politically

correct‖ mood on this issue in Europe, and uphold a viewpoint that is more qualified and

contradictory, with similarities to that found in the United States.

To safeguard its economic interests, Russia tends to emphasize the unknowns by favoring a

minimal, and rather skeptical, reading of climate change, and by promoting strategies of

adaptation and not of mitigation.

Russia will not commit itself to binding agreements if it considers that it will come out of them

worse off relative to the American, Chinese, or Indian economies.

Russia is the only developed country that is expected to derive economic advantages from

climate change. It is thus hedging its bets on the future: on becoming self-sufficient in food

thanks to climate change, as well as on building a unique system of hydroelectric power that

could potentially be used as leverage over its Asian and European neighbors.

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However, 1) the negative aspects of climate change, especially its economic costs, are often

passed over in silence and not taken into account in Russian calculations; and 2) the hopes of

benefitting from climate change thwart the capacity of the Russian state to implement efficient

strategies of adaptation.

The cost of expected climate change in Russia has to be calculated not only for itself, but above

all in its interaction with the other challenges that the country will have to contend with in the

decades to come, including its loss of human capital and its lack of competitiveness.

3. Arctic as a Narrative Component of the Nationhood

The Kremlin-led nationalist rhetoric on the Arctic is mainly for domestic audiences. It is part of

the symbolic arsenal used by the Putin regime to legitimate itself: references chosen from the

Stalinist myth of the Arctic—people‘s heroism and industrial prowess in hostile environments—

are still well-received among some parts of the Russian population. The Arctic is a virgin land on

which it is easy to project, albeit difficult to realize, dreams of great power.

On the international stage, Russia negotiates its viewpoint in accordance with the other actors. It

is rather threatening toward NATO, but distinctly more reconciling in the Arctic Council and the

Barents Euro-Arctic Council. It mirrors back the image that the others send of it: it is bellicose

with Canada, in competition with the United States, but celebrates cooperation and pragmatism

with Nordic European countries. It is thus necessary to strike a symbolic chord in order to

integrate Russia better into international debates on the Arctic, and in particular to bring into the

foreground its scientific competences.

The rise of Russian nationalism, specifically xenophobia directed at migrants, North-Caucasians,

and, in a general way, ―Muslims,‖ constitutes a long-term driver that will shape the future of the

stance taken in Russian public opinion on the Arctic. The theme of a White Russia, or of Russia

as a Nordic power, is bound to take on a greater magnitude in the decades to come. Russian

nationalism must therefore be a part of the strategic planning, as it may lead the decision-making

process to run counter to rational logic, especially if it is motivated by questions of pride and

symbols of nation-making.

4. The Russian Stance on Territorial Conflicts in the Arctic

Russia has succeeded in settling its territorial disputes with Norway but still has to manage two

problems, the Svalbard/Spitzenberg archipelago and the ratification of the U.S.-Russian treaty on

the Chukchi and Bering Seas. The first dossier will probably be settled in the framework of

Russian-Norwegian relations and is above all a financial matter (payment of taxes to the

Norwegian state). The second might find a favorable outcome if the Kremlin decides to ratify the

agreement. But it is refusing to do so at the moment so that it has a way of pressuring

Washington in their negotiations over the fishing industry.

Russia respects all the international procedures for delimiting the continental shelf. Following

the pending decision of the UN Commission on the Limits of the Continental Shelf (UNCLOS),

Moscow could acquire vast Arctic territories, amounting to as much as 1.2 million square

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kilometers, which would enable it to move radically closer to the Canadian and American coasts.

Legally acquiring this advantage means that Russia would not be able to be undermined by the

other Arctic states. It would, however, modify the overall geostrategic balance, as well as the

prospects of economic exploitation in Russia‘s favor.

It is entirely possible that the UNCLOS will refuse to validate these Russian claims, or only meet

a small part of them, or even refuse to give a ruling by considering the scientific information

provided insufficient to make a decision. Russia has invested considerable sums in scientific

research in order to legitimate its claims, and has projected grand nation-building rhetoric onto it.

In case of failure, Moscow‘s reaction will be unpredictable, but it would probably mean growing

resentment against UNCLOS.

Will Russia continue to respect international legislation if it deems the legal decision unjust or

unfavorable to it? The issue is worth discussing by way of preparation for Moscow‘s potential

attempts to circumvent a legal framework in the decades to come.

5. Russian Military Strategy: Projection of Power and Capacities of Action

The traditional gap between rhetoric and the real capacities of the Russian army is still more

clear-cut on Arctic-related questions, which are challenging for all actors.

Russia will find the idea of a nuclear-free zone in the Arctic difficult to accept, as its nuclear

deterrence is intrinsically linked to its northern territories. Nuclear deterrence is the only hard

security element that Moscow intends to maintain in the Arctic as a symbol of its power balance

with the West. The other security stakes are linked to non-traditional threats.

The future of Russian defense in the Arctic will be concentrated on potential small-scale

conflicts around energy deposits or transit, smuggling, illegal immigration, terrorism risks, and

environmental issues. It is legitimate that Russia wants to strengthen the security of its Arctic

coastline, and this serves NATO‘s interests; the risks of smuggling nuclear or biological arms

cannot be dismissed.

Russia is more likely to be amenable to international cooperation in soft, rather than hard,

security issues, hence the duality of its discourse. The military narrative is still focused on

NATO as its main strategic concern, while the Ministry of Emergency Situations promotes

international cooperation, for instance on a research and rescue system.

Military reform will be a challenging process. The country‘s demographic evolution encourages

the birth of a professional army, and its lack of financial resources requires the modernization of

the entire army corps and military-industrial complex. The Russian Armed Forces will be forced

to increase civil-military cooperation and foreign participation, and probably to privatize part of

the military-industrial sector.

Although the aviation and navy sectors are the two priorities in the modernization of the Russian

Armed Forces, they nonetheless also have other more difficult challenges to contend with:

Russia‘s accumulated deficit in matters of communication, radars and satellites; and the loss of

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human capital in the army. To this must be added the lack of cooperation, and even rivalry,

between the Ministry of Defense and the siloviki, which may hamper efficiency in securitizing

the Russian Arctic.

The revival of Russian military activities, mainly naval and in aviation, in the Arctic is not a sign

of re-escalation with the West. Moscow is behaving preemptively. Strategic uncertainty is

pushing it to flex its muscles. Russia knows that it cannot expose itself to real tensions with

NATO other than in small, post-Soviet states and non-NATO members like Georgia.

The trend towards desecuritization of the Arctic has to be openly discussed between NATO and

Russia. In each country, strategic planning needs to articulate more clearly the growing shift

from hard to soft security and the possibility of uncontrolled escalating tensions

6. Arctic Wealth: Resource Nationalism or Cooperative Patterns?

Russia benefits from uncommon subsoil wealth. While Russian predominance in oil resources is

not assured, as North America is also well endowed, it is a clear leader in terms of gas reserves

and rare minerals, especially rare earth metals.

Russia has the potential to transform its reserves into actual output, which would give it a

significant geopolitical advantage: the ability to maintain great power status in energy and

minerals, and the capacity to delay its economic transformation from an energy-based economy

toward a knowledge-based and service one.

However, the factors that will determine whether this potential becomes reality are partly outside

of Moscow‘s control, including the world price of hydrocarbons and minerals, growth of energy

competition, alternative energies, and the state of demand in Europe and Asia.

It is therefore necessary to consider that the Arctic fields might not be profitable to operate in

coming decades, which would cause Moscow to lose significant revenue, limit its geopolitical

ambitions, and weaken Russia‘s public finances, especially if large-scale investments were

undertaken.

In any case, Russia will continue to combine patterns of exclusion and cooperation, but seems to

give priority to the latter because the potential for energy sector profits is at stake.

The current focus on oil and gas tends to obscure sectors that could be more powerful over the

long term: minerals, rare earth metals, uranium, and hydroelectricity production.

Even if it is partial, the increasing use of Arctic regions multiplies security risks. The most

serious are small-scale conflicts over fields in the western part of the Arctic, the collision of

hydrocarbons extraction structures and the military vessels of one or more countries, clashes

between Russian, American, and Asian fishing vessels, and the growing smuggling to fish stocks

to Asian markets.

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A powerful Russia based on ―Arctic-resource‖ nationalism must be included among the

scenarios put forward in strategic planning; however, there is little chance that it will come to

pass. Either Moscow will be unable to meet the enormous investments required and expected

profitability will not come about, or it will have to change its patterns of threat perception and

open itself more widely to international cooperation.

7. The Northern Sea Route: International and Domestic Shipping Issues

Legally, Russia will continue to define the Northern Sea Route (NSR) as national waters in

which foreign navigation is welcome but controlled. It could try to use the legislation in its favor

to restrict foreign presence. The Northern Sea Route is therefore potential new leverage for

Russia over the international community.

However, the revenues that Moscow could draw from this traffic are high, and they legitimate

the building of a new fleet of icebreakers. They are vital for the survival of Russian domestic

Arctic shipping. Russia thus has every interest in a growing foreign presence to finance its own

development objectives.

Moscow will remain ahead of the United States and Canada in terms of its Arctic fleet, and will

seek to strengthen its shipyard facilities. However, a large part of the trade fleet will continue to

be purchased from abroad, whether in Asia, or in cooperation with the naval yards of northern

Europe.

It will probably take around twenty to thirty years until Arctic conditions have become suitable

for regular transits. Large-scale, year-round transit operations will hardly be possible before the

ice cover has disappeared for most of the year, and this does not seem realistic in at least the next

forty to sixty years.

The NSR as an international trade line has few chances of becoming economically profitable to

the point of really competing with traditional sea routes. However, the volatile situations in the

Middle East and Asia could suddenly alter the status quo. Were the Suez Canal to be closed, or

crossing the Hormuz or Malacca Straits made impossible, the Arctic may become a necessary

option and this would enable Moscow to impose higher fees than shipping companies would

currently accept.

Destinational traffic in the Russian Arctic will be dominated by private actors, mainly energy

firms, and patterns of commercial profitability, while strategic interests will drop back to second

place. The growing role of Norilsk Nickel is worth following closely.

The division of the Russian Arctic into three regions—the Barents and Kara Seas, the eastern

coastlines of the Arctic, and the Far East and Bering Straits—of rather separate economic

systems will increase. Strategic planning therefore must not see the Russian Arctic as a unified

area that faces similar issues, but must emphasize a micro-regional interpretation.

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The role of Asian states in Arctic shipping is still little known, but it will probably be central.

The Arctic could therefore become a crucial element of the (im)balance between Moscow and

Beijing, and shape the future of their bilateral relations in a cooperative or defensive way.

8. Russia’s Challenge: Space and Population Patterns

Even if in years to come the birth rate slowly rises—as already happens to be the case—and the

male mortality from violent death decreases—which is not presently the case—the population

deficit, in particular of youths and women of childbearing age, will continue and the Russian

population will drastically decline in the decades to come.

Russia lacks skilled people. Soviet-trained generations are entering retirement, the country is

enduring a steady brain-drain to the West, technical professions are lacking in motivation, and

student numbers have collapsed. All of these factors will plunge the country into an

unprecedented economic and social dilemma in the two decades to come.

Immigration is the only viable solution to Russia‘s economic development. However, this

implies an in-depth alteration of the narrative concerning Russian national identity, not to

mention the establishment of efficient public policies of migrant integration, which do not yet

exist.

The major industries such as Gazprom and Norilsk Nickel are developing lobbying rationales to

foster a policy of massive migration. However, the Kremlin has founded its political legitimacy

on nationalist and xenophobic discourses. If the political authorities do not recognize the

economic rationality of immigration, then they will have to revise their ambitions for

development downwards due to a lack of labor power, but without being able to avoid already

tense interethnic tensions.

If Russia can attract lots of migrants from Central Asia and the Caucasus, these latter will occupy

positions at the bottom of the social ladder. This immigration will therefore not make up for the

deficit in its skilled workforce, which will have to be made up of workers from other countries,

probably other Asian ones.

If the great industrial sites of the Arctic do eventually concretize, the south-north migration flows

will increase in magnitude, and the phenomenon of ―polar Islam‖ will become one of the shaping

components of Russia.

The fragmentation of the Russian territory will increase. The North-Caucasus is probably lost,

the Far East risks being rocked by autonomist tensions, and the Russian population will continue

to remain concentrated in the country‘s European regions. For Moscow, at issue is learning

whether the population will ―withdraw‖ only into the country‘s west, or if more propitious

conditions will also be experienced in the north.

Russia‘s population/wealth/territory gap will create major problems for the state‘s political

survival, a state that has always conceived of itself in centralized terms. The challenge to be met

is therefore much more than an economic or demographic challenge. It requires an in-depth

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change of Russia‘s historical patterns of development. Space can be blessing, but also a burden

for Russia.

The future of the Russian Arctic will be a divorced one. The successful development of the

European part, between Murmansk and Arkhangelsk, is the most likely; that of the Central

Arctic, founded on hydrocarbons and minerals, is potential but not guaranteed, while a revival in

Sakha-Yakutia and East Siberia seems quite unrealistic.

SUMMARIZING THE IMPORTANCE OF THE ISSUE FOR THE U.S. DEFENSE AND

SECURITY PLANNING COMMUNITY

Even if the validity of data on global warming is still debated within the U.S. security

community, this must not halt preparations for possible futures. As said in the 2010 Quadrennial

Defense Review Report, climate change acts as an ―instability accelerant.‖ As with nuclear

terrorism, deadly pandemics, or biological warfare, climate change must therefore be an integral

part of strategic planning.

Climatic uncertainty calls for strategic flexibility. It is therefore necessary to highlight those

procedures likely to increase predictability in the region.

A twenty-first century security architecture for the Arctic has to be built now, otherwise trends

that are unfavorable to U.S. interests could influence global orientations to come.

The U.S. stance on the evolving strategic landscape in the Arctic needs:

1) To be more visible internationally

The ratification of UNCLOS is a necessary element for international recognition of

Washington‘s legitimacy in jointly shaping the Arctic future. The UNCLOS maintains the

freedom of navigation and offers a unique legal framework for U.S. claims on its continental

shelf.

The issue of creating legally-binding instruments in the framework of the Arctic Council

needs to be discussed.

The creation of an Arctic Command has to be discussed, and, if it not created, then the

overlap of responsibilities – or rather the gap – between EUCOM, NORTHCOM and PACOM

has to be solved.

2) To be better balanced in terms of regional priorities

The U.S. view on the Arctic is too focused on internal North American issues, especially

on relations with Canada.

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The entire north of Europe (Nordic countries and Germany) is rethinking its relations

with its Russian neighbor. Russia‘s resilience or otherwise to climate change and its strategies in

the Arctic could be critical to protecting transatlantic security interests. The United States must

put forward an Arctic framework to the EU as a part of its transatlantic commitment, and to

avoid European countries having to face Russia alone.

The United States also needs to valorize the U.S.-Russia ―border‖ by developing

activities between both Pacific coasts.

3) To be more innovative

Hard security is well defined, but soft security is not.

The U.S. Arctic Policy, ratified in January 2009, naturally focuses on the defense of national

interests in the Arctic, in particular highlighting the strategic location of the region for deterrence

systems and the freedom to travel at sea. On these two questions, the New START treaty with

Russia guarantees the nuclear balance between Russia and the United States in the Arctic. As for

the second question, that of free navigation in the sea, it will remain unresolved for the time

being as the American viewpoint stands in contradiction to the stances of Russia and Canada

concerning the Northwest and Northeast Passage, but entails no risk of conflict. It is mainly a

symbolic and financial issue.

The focus of the U.S. Arctic Policy is on hard military issues. Soft issues are mentioned, but, as

shown by the 2009 U.S. Navy Arctic Roadmap, the capabilities gap is huge. Looking forward,

soft issues are the main problem, and soft can sometimes evolve into hard. It is therefore

necessary to advance the discussion on the U.S. role in framing soft security procedures in the

Arctic. This includes search and rescue systems, climatic emergency and pollution preparedness,

satellite control, and the fight against smuggling. The question of tensions over fishing stocks

between Russian, Asian, and U.S. trawlers needs to be properly addressed, as this kind of

conflict can impact negatively on North Pacific security, mainly because of the tense relations

between North and South Korea, China, and Japan.

Time Management is an issue for the U.S. Navy

The Arctic does not appear to be a pressing and hot issue in comparison with the problems that

the United States is facing in the Middle East, Afghanistan and Pakistan, and Asia. However,

time management is key for the Arctic and Russia. On this point, Russia is clearly ahead. Even

with its financial difficulties, bureaucratic inertia, and the disconnection of its great ambitions

from reality, Moscow is the most forward looking of the Arctic powers (with Norway) and has

an elaborated holistic vision of the objectives and outcomes it wants to achieve there.

The question of building a new icebreaker therefore needs a public debate on its costs and

benefits. The United States will already be in a critical situation in the second half of the 2010s,

with almost no means of travelling in an autonomous way in the Arctic. Given the necessary

construction time, the issue needs to be put on the table as soon as possible. Geostrategic

uncertainty in the Arctic cannot afford to be lacking in areas such as logistics. Should the

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Northwest and Northeast Passages become ice-free and traffic grow, the capabilities gap will

increase and U.S. polar icebreaking capability will be at risk.

This also goes for the U.S. Navy in Asia. In the next several decades, the most challenging

contingencies are likely to be maritime and in Asia. If nothing changes in U.S. shipbuilding

strategy very soon, before 2030 the Chinese submarine fleet will outnumber that of the United

States. China will also have at its disposal the space systems necessary for intercontinental power

projection. Beijing could challenge the U.S. Navy‘s access to the western Pacific and the Arctic,

and the time needed to close the gap will be too long to protect U.S. interests.

Enhance both bilateral and multilateral activities to reduce the ambiguities of Russia‘s

revival of military activities in the Arctic

The question remains of whether NATO can serve as the primary vehicle for ensuring Arctic

security, and if so, then how. NATO‘s weakness in the Arctic is its focus on hard security, while

the chief local security concerns will be soft ones. However, both NATO and Russia have

already collaborated in search and rescue and disaster management, and have the experience of

joint counter-piracy operations in the Horn of Africa. This framework can be transposed and

developed in the Arctic.

On a bilateral level, the U.S.-Russia joint task force on search and rescue through the Arctic

Council and the joint-traffic control systems operated through the NATO-Russia Council‘s

Cooperative Airspace Initiative (CAI) can each serve as a departure point for expanded

cooperation. The Global Maritime Partnership initiative can also be used as a global framework

for joint activities in the Arctic.

Because of the importance of soft security issues in the Arctic, the most concerned body is the

U.S. Coast Guard, more than even the Navy itself. Possible joint coordination of Arctic littoral

coast guard activities should be explored. This would imply, however, that the U.S. Coast Guard

is better equipped, in particular on the northern border in Alaska. It is not easy to cooperate with

the Russian FSB; the Ministry of Emergency Situations (EMERCOM) is the most open to

international cooperation and has to be prioritized.

3) To be more holistic and forward-looking

Arctic is knowledge

Just like the United States, so too Russia aims to have knowledge power status in the Arctic. This

civil side can be easily developed with no risks of tensions and will respond to Moscow‘s need

for symbolic recognition of its status in the Arctic. In twenty or thirty years, China will be able to

challenge the United States in terms of knowledge, and to have knowledge is to have political

power. This issue needs to be closely monitored.

The main actors in the Arctic can be private ones

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The private sector is summoned to play a major role in developing Arctic infrastructure and

capabilities. For this it has both the financial means and the technical knowledge, and the more it

gets involved in the Arctic, the greater it will need a joint security strategy with the defense

community. The U.S. strategic planning community should therefore discuss ways to engage the

private sector. Seasonal U.S. coast guard activities on the Alaskan Arctic side could, for instance,

be carried out using infrastructure built by the private sector. It is important to discuss dual use

for some infrastructure and logistical means.

The future of the Arctic can be Asian

The role of Asian countries in the Arctic has yet to be studied in detail. The U.S. security and

defense communities need to get more information and draw up more scenarios, first on the role

of China, and then on those of Japan and Korea. These countries could radically alter the shape

of the Arctic landscape, both strategically and commercially. For Russia, the Asian countries can

become both key partners and key competitors. The Russia-China axis of convenience will be

influenced by relations in the Arctic. The place of India in the Arctic may also be discussed in a

global framework dealing with the reshaping of the maritime world order.

THREE SCENARIOS FOR 2040

Russia‘s Arctic faces multiple possible futures. What do these futures look like? What are the

strengths and weaknesses of each of them? What kind of geopolitical axes with the main and

regional powers will shape them? What is the pathway to each of these futures? The U.S. defense

and security planning community needs to understand what these possible futures look like.

Without this knowledge, it will not be able to participate in shaping the Arctic picture in a way

that corresponds to its own interests, and not be able to prepare itself should the actual future be

detrimental to its interests.

Scenarios are not designated to forecast the future, but to help us to cope with any of them, as the

worst scenarios are the ones we have not thought about. Most of the possible futures will never

become reality, but they still are part of the range of future possibilities. They are based on the

proper identification of current drivers and trends that may shape the decades to come.

The three scenarios presented here do not all have the same degree of probability. The first is the

least probable and the most provocative while at the same time certainly plausible in its main

trends. The two others are more probable.

In the first scenario Russia has become an Arctic superpower. Due to extreme climate change

that took place more quickly than anticipated and rampant demand for energy, Russia is bringing

in major revenue from the exploitation of hydrocarbons and rare earth metals (REMs), not only

from its Arctic territory but also from the continental shelf, which was attributed to Russia by the

UN Commission. Russian companies control the sea lines of communication along Russia‘s

entire Arctic coast. The country has strengthened its hydroelectric and wind power generation,

and manages the technologies adapted to climate change. Moscow was able to contain Chinese

expansion by addressing Beijing‘s mineral and energy needs in exchange for the respect of

15

Russia‘s far eastern borders and a controlled influx of migrants. Russia has also overtaken

Europe – weakened by internal problems – and the U.S. – busy with the Middle East and

confined by its relations to Beijing and Mexico. Due to a series of global economic and

geopolitical circumstances, Russia has pursued a political regime that is authoritarian, nationalist,

partly autarkic, and pro-birth. The regime provides increased salaries to its population, which has

shifted to the North due to the loss of the southern part of the country. Ideological constraints are

strict, natalism is strongly encouraged, and migration is tightly controlled as Kremlin-led

propaganda glorifies Aryan ethno-nationalism. Moscow cultivates the image of a pure Nordic

Russia, the final fortress of the ―white world‖ in the face of the invasion of ―peoples of color,‖

and endowed with a world mission in the Arctic lands.

In the second scenario the Arctic has entered the globalized world much more slowly than

anticipated. Following nuclear and oil-related disasters, the region obtained a specific legal status

making it protected from economic exploitation, which has been partially suspended. Climate

change more chaotic than anticipated has prevented the Northern Sea Route from becoming an

effective trade line. Only the Barents Sea section is active, and Asian trade takes place on the

Pacific front. After significant Russo-European tensions, the Arctic eventually became a space of

international cooperation due to a legally binding Arctic Treaty Organization. Russia tried to

pursue resource-based nationalism in the Arctic, but it did not work. In the end, Russia has only

survived through closer relations with Unified Europe and increasing integration with the Nordic

countries. The Russian political regime reflects the population‘s general shift toward Europe, and

it is similar to those in the rest of Europe – democratic with populist xenophobic tendencies.

Most of the Arctic and subarctic regions are no longer inhabited, except by indigenous

populations, while ethnic Russians have all moved to the country‘s western and southern regions.

The North Caucasus region was lost in the 2020s, but the Far East has not attracted China‘s

interest as had been expected. Russian activities in the Arctic are limited, focused on

environmental protection and preparation for emergency climatic situations. Russia has not

become an Arctic superpower, but a fragile, medium-sized, European-centered power.

In the third scenario the Arctic has become a globalized frontier, mirroring the evolutions of the

twenty-first century as a whole. The region has become an integral component of the global

economic system, but the exploitation of hydrocarbons and minerals and shipping along

Northern Sea Route have been slowed down by climate change that was more complex than

envisaged. The excessive price of exploitation in the Arctic compared to the Middle East, along

with new technologies, were not attractive to Western companies, so they remained marginal

actors in the sector. The big Russian companies were not successful in their reforms in the years

2010-2020 and thus could not undertake Arctic resource exploitation by themselves. These two

conditions left the field open to the Asian powers. For China especially, but also for Korea,

Japan, India, and Indonesia, the high prices of Arctic resources are not a problem because their

energy security and geopolitical security are of greatest importance. The Chinese flag now flies

over the exploitation sites, the ships, and the polar scientific stations in the Arctic, and the

technologies adapted to climate change are also from Asia. In the years 2020-2030, Russians

moved to the European areas of the country, the Far East came under Chinese control, with the

wealth of the Arctic being exploited by 30 million migrants. To avoid interethnic riots,

segregation mechanisms have been instituted. The two principal communities of migrants –

Central-Asian and Chinese – are in increasing conflict and their powerful lobbies are clashing.

The Muslims of Tatarstan and the North-Caucasus region constitute a significant part of the

16

population. Moscow is no longer the master of the development of its Arctic territory and the

geographic fragmentation of Russia as a whole is becoming increasingly noticeable: Russians in

Europe, Central Asians in Siberia, and Chinese in the Far East.

17

2. REPORT

1. INTRODUCTION

The analysis of the changes taking place in the Arctic today is often framed by historical

references, as though the new patterns of the twenty-first century need to be explained in familiar

terms in order to be understood. For example, the strategic issues are framed using significant,

albeit journalistic historic parallels. These include the conquest of the West (the New Far West),

the Cold War (the Ice Cold War), or the Great Game in Central Asia at the end of the nineteenth

century (the New Great Game). The economic issues, often presented without taking into

account real commercial context and knowledge of private actors, evoke the Gold Rush (the

Arctic Rush).1 At the other part of the spectrum, that of environmental concerns, the messages

target emotional sensitivity to nature and wildlife, such as the National Geographic photo of a

polar bear, the quintessential symbol of the Arctic, trapped on a melting iceberg.2

Expected climate change is an important driver in the global picture of the Arctic, but it is not the

only factor shaping its future. The Arctic is a region where various countries‘ warships and

submarines will continue to cross paths; where the fragile ecosystems of local populations and

wildlife need international oversight and protection; where, according to the global price of

hydrocarbons and minerals, potentially profitable exploitation of these resources could begin

despite extreme conditions; and finally, where air traffic linking North America, Eurasia, and

Asia continues to increase because the route via the polar area saves time and fuel. Nevertheless,

a great deal of the Arctic‘s future does depend on climate change. This could encourage broader

perspectives on human activities, but it could just as easily mean the region becoming

increasingly inhospitable, and unpredictable to human and animal life.

1.1. The Complexities of the Arctic Debate

The Arctic debate has several distinctive features. Like discussions on climate change, it is a

globalized debate. Interested parties come not only from North America and Europe, but also

from Asia, Latin America, and Africa. The Arctic debate is even more multidisciplinary than that

on climate change, with climatologists, geographers, oceanologists, scholars from the human and

social sciences, and security specialists all in the mix. The public voices on the Arctic also

epitomize the wide diversity of people involved in the debate: scientific groups, indigenous

communities, politicians and members of the military, NGOs with environmental agendas, and

private businesses are all invited to hear and take into account other points of view. The feeling

of a growing contradiction between environmental protection and natural-resource development

accentuates the impression of many views coming together but not connecting.

But the Arctic is also distinctive in the way that it stimulates our imaginations. As the last terra

incognita of humanity—with its great marine depths—it is apt to evoke romantic and utopian

clichés. The two poles remain largely unknown and untamed spaces. The entire weight of

cultural history thus comes into play. Everyone has their own concept of the Arctic, influenced

by readings from childhood, and sensitivity to the great human epics of traveling around the

planet by sea or air, along with the polar expeditions of the nineteenth and early twentieth

centuries.3 Moreover, the Arctic is eminently visual. Photos play a key role in public awareness,

18

sometimes seeming to communicate more than words can, and demanding respect for ―Mother

Earth.‖ Another striking visual element of the Arctic is maps. To understand the Arctic, one must

look at the globe from a very different angle. Visual representations have a direct impact on

perceptions of identity, place in the world, and security. But they are also capable of distorting

reality and power relations.4

A great number of arguments and viewpoints must be taken into account in order to discuss the

Arctic. As such, collecting information is sometimes challenging. Journalistic reports are

plentiful, and they tend to overshadow any academic works, which are usually very rooted in

their own disciplines with little or no cross-referencing. Connections between natural sciences,

human sciences, and security studies are largely underdeveloped. Moreover, most information is

presented from a national point of view. American and Canadian publications are almost entirely

focused on their bilateral issues (Northwest Passage, Beaufort Sea, and Alaska), and

Scandinavians and Russians focus likewise on their own such issues. The importance of the

Arctic in the transatlantic partnership is as yet rarely discussed, and Russia is generally the major

missing contributor in Western discussions. All the concerned states have published their Arctic

strategies, Norway and Canada first, the United States last, while the civil society links to Arctic

subjects are more or less exclusively Western. Non-Arctic states like China and Japan also want

to promote their points of view, and many international organizations are part of the picture: the

International Maritime Organization (IMO) and other UN entities, NATO, the European Union,

the Arctic Council, and the Barents Euro-Arctic Council (BEAC). Everyone wants to participate

in creating the Arctic narrative.5

1.2. The Geographical Arctic and its Political and Institutional Landscape

There is currently no universally accepted definition for the spatial scope of the Arctic.

Climatologists, oceanologists, historians, and geopoliticians all lay out their own criteria. Some

definitions only take into account the Arctic Ocean, which is the smallest of all the oceans with

only 3 percent of the world‘s total ocean surface area and 1 percent of its volume. Although it is

classified as an ocean because of its size (14,000 square kilometers), it is also reminiscent of the

Mediterranean Sea, being mostly surrounded by land. The Arctic Ocean‘s distinctive feature is a

more extensive continental shelf, covering about one-third of the seabed and reaching a width of

1,200 kilometers in Siberia. A vast number of islands rise up from the shelf, considerably

limiting opportunities for deep draught vessels.6 Even Arctic maritime borders differ. The U.S.

National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) has defined seventeen large marine

ecosystems for the Arctic,7 while the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) classifies the

Arctic waters in a different way, according to the purposes of fisheries.8

Other definitions include land, in which case the criteria of delimitation are even more complex.

Bio-regions are often the leading criteria: for example, the natural borders where vegetation

ceases to grow (the tree-line), the zones whose temperatures do not exceed 10 degrees Celsius in

July, or the regions where the permafrost begins. The Arctic Climate Impact Assessment (ACIA)

divides the Arctic into four sub-regions: Eastern Greenland to Western Russia, the Siberian shelf,

Chukotka to the Western Canadian Arctic, and the Central Canadian Arctic to Western

Greenland.9 Still other definitions consider that the entire Arctic Circle (66º 33‘ North) must be

included, which means all of Greenland and the Faroe Islands, as well as the Bering Sea and the

19

Aleutian Islands.10

The Arctic Council defines the region as spreading over more than 30 million

square kilometers with a population of about four million.11

But if one takes into account the criteria of extreme climate conditions, almost all of Siberia, a

large part of Canada, and Iceland can be classified as Arctic or subarctic. The borders could

extend still farther; China tests its polar scientific advances in the high plateaus of Tibet, which it

considers its own ―High North.‖ Everyone seems therefore to have their own definitions of the

Arctic. The question of the Arctic‘s southern borders has direct consequences on the level of

analysis and on the decision-making process. Even the terminology used to describe the Arctic is

vast, such as High North, Circumpolar North, and Polar regions. The differences are often poorly

defined and depend primarily on national traditions. Russia refers to its Arctic regions as the

High North (Dal‘nii or Krainii Sever), Norway is more accustomed to the term ―polar‖ or

―European Arctic,‖ the institutions focused on indigenous issues favor ―Circumpolar North,‖ etc.

However, the Arctic is not merely a geographic space. It is also a political space, with its already

blurry borders further distorted by state-centric mindsets. Five states, known as the Arctic Rim,

20

have coastal Arctic waters: the United States, Canada, Denmark, Norway, and Russia. For two of

them, the coastal waters are not geographically contiguous with the mainland: Alaska for the

United States and Greenland for Denmark. While Alaska is still part of the North American

continent, Greenland is a specific, isolated component of the Kingdom of Denmark, likely

moving toward independence or at least a growing level of autonomy. Three other states have

Arctic territories but without access to the Arctic Ocean: Iceland, Finland, and Sweden. This

categorization may impact policy-making. In the 2008 Ilulissat Declaration, the five Arctic Rim

countries announced their cooperation on high-level ocean policy issues without the participation

of the three other states, which protested their exclusion from the decision process.12

A great number of regional institutions are also involved in the future of the region.13

All the

Western Arctic Ocean states are members of NATO (the United States, Canada, Iceland,

Denmark, and Norway). Although Denmark, Finland, and Sweden are members of the EU,

Norway is not, which means that the EU has Arctic lands but no Arctic coastline. Iceland and

Norway are members of the European Free Trade Association (EFTA), but Greenland is not, also

having opted out of the European Economic Community (EEC), which preceded the EU. In

addition, the situation is evolving since Greenland and the Faroe Islands may well proclaim their

independence from Denmark in the years to come, becoming new independent players and

thereby reducing Copenhagen‘s role. Iceland, Norway, Sweden, Denmark, and Finland make up

the Nordic Cooperation. Three Arctic states are members of the G8: the United States, Russia,

and Canada. The same three are federations that have given some autonomous rights to their sub-

administrative units and their indigenous peoples. The presence of the U.S.-Russia partnership in

the Arctic and the memories of the Cold War complicate negotiations, as do perceptions of

threat.

Apart from the organizations mentioned above, two others are specifically devoted to Arctic

questions: the Barents Euro-Arctic Council (BEAC) and the Arctic Council. The Foreign Affairs

Ministries of Finland, Norway, Sweden, Russia, Denmark, and Iceland, and the European

Commission made the BEAC formal in 1993. Today, Canada, France, Germany, Italy, Japan, the

Netherlands, Poland, the United Kingdom, and the United States participate as observers. The

BEAC engages in manifold activities, such as managing spent nuclear fuel and radioactive

waste, simplifying border crossings, cooperating on the environment and emergency and rescue,

and strengthening the history and cultures of the region with the involvement of indigenous

peoples.14

To this day, the Barents area remains Europe‘s largest for interregional cooperation.

21

The Arctic Council, established in 1996, is an intergovernmental forum designed to build

consensus on issues of environment and sustainable development, as well as to monitor

pollution, disseminate information, and promote cooperation among the eight Arctic nations. It

was born from the Arctic Environmental Protection Strategy (AEPS), which was founded in

1991 to deal with the threat of polar pollution. It includes the four initial AEPS working groups15

and two additional groups: one on sustainable development (SDWG)—particularly active after

the 2004 Arctic Climate Impact Assessment—and the other on the Arctic Contaminants Action

Program (ACAP). The Arctic Council has worked in particular to improve the membership status

accorded to the Arctic‘s indigenous peoples, making their NGOs permanent participants equal to

the states. The Council also works mainly on issues related to environmental protection and

sustainable development and excludes matters linked to military security.16

In the absence of a

permanent secretariat, the work of the Arctic Council is heavily influenced by the priorities of

whichever state is chairing the two-year rotating presidency.

22

The Arctic is often presented in the media and public opinion as a new Far West, in which

international law is either nonexistent or not applied by the rival players. However, the Arctic

has many complex legal charters, which sometimes overlap, and some specialists think there is

too much rather than too little legal framework. Since the Arctic Ocean possesses no particular

status, it is subject to the decisions of the International Maritime Organization. Moreover, it also

comes under the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), which was

signed in 1982 and came into force in 1994. The Convention has been ratified by more than 150

states including all the Arctic coastal states except the United States, and therefore has major

legal influence over the region.17

According to UNCLOS, all states, coastal or not, possess

legitimate rights and interests on the high seas and in deep seabeds, in the Arctic as in the other

oceans, and are therefore able to participate in decision-making, which some have not hesitated

to point out. Accordingly, the European Union, China, Japan, and South Korea have been

accepted as ad hoc observers in the Arctic Council, some of them having applied for observer

status, others for permanent observer status.18

In spite of the existing legal framework, many experts stress the fact that these regulatory

systems and supervising institutions are founded on soft-law status, an ad hoc funding system,

and consensus. The legislation and institutional mechanisms do not seem fit to handle any

serious tensions that may arise.19

For instance the Arctic Council has no regulatory mandate and

cannot enforce its decisions on member states. To date, only one genuinely circum-Arctic

agreement has been signed—the 1974 Agreement for the Protection of Polar Bears. Impending

climate change pushes all participants to consider a more consistent normative framework, since

the Arctic Council is currently unable to do much for the sustainability of the region. The EU and

increasing numbers of states question whether the Council is able to perform the tasks expected

of a forum in charge of managing a region that is undergoing such significant transformation.

However, in Ilulissat, the five states of the Arctic Rim stated that they saw no interest in forming

a new comprehensive international legal regime for the region.

For several years the idea of an Arctic Treaty based on the model of the 1959 Antarctic Treaty

and the 1983 Madrid Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty has been

suggested by some experts and politicians as a means of giving the region a strong institutional

structure, but without leading to anything precise. As of now, only the Antarctic is governed by a

legally binding regime. It is clear that the Arctic and the Antarctic are fundamentally different

geographically; one is an ice-covered ocean, the other is an ice-covered continent, one has

human inhabitants, the other does not. But they are also very different in legal terms. Much of

the Arctic falls under the sovereignty of various states, while claims on the Antarctic have been

frozen.20

The Antarctic model is therefore not particularly relevant for a regional legally binding

system in the Arctic, and other legislative ideas must be explored.21

1.3. The Arctic: Not a New Geopolitical Pivot, but a Balance Shifter

Long dismissed as a frozen waterland, for better or for worse, the Arctic is suddenly in the

spotlight. Moving from unknown to known, marginal to central, this new front-page story gives

rise to analyses that are fond of wielding superlatives: the most northern region, the coldest one,

the region with the longest nights and longest days, the most fragile ecosystem, the region richest

in hydrocarbons, etc. Similar extremes can also be found in strategic thinking. Some hasten to

23

predict an Arctic completely altered by climate change, with a sudden growth in population,

filled with international terrorists looking for an unregulated haven, and having become the next

Suez Canal in terms of shipping and the next Middle East in terms of hydrocarbons. However,

this vision tends to distort the realities of the Arctic region, and it also neglects to compare the

opportunities to be found there to those found in other regions of the world.

Must the Arctic bring about a drastic change in the twenty-first century global balance of power?

Is it a new geopolitical pivot similar to the one announced by Sir Halford Mackinder in the

nineteenth century for Siberia, and Central Asia? While the previous Heartland—the pivotal

point between continental and maritime powers—was found in the expanses of Eurasia, will the

new one be the High North? Will ―whoever controls the Arctic controls the world‖ become the

maxim of the twenty-first century? The viewpoint defended here is that the Arctic is not the new

geopolitical pivot point, but it will be one of the balance shifters in the global equilibrium of

power.

The states that are most active in the Arctic will increase in prominence, not only through their

strategic and economic engagement in the region, but also through scientific efforts that bring

international prestige and recognition, display technological mastery, and participate in nation-

branding. It will also contribute to re-shaping geopolitical axes such as transatlantic commitment,

Nordic Europe-Russia partnership, or an Asia-Russia pairing. Growing interest in the Arctic

coming from Asian states including China, Korea, Japan, and possibly India confirm the Arctic‘s

role as a global balance shifter. It does not change the fundamental order, but it adds new weight

for various states. Moreover, the Arctic will set the tone for evolving relations between twenty-

first century actors: states, private actors, NGOs, populations, and supranational organizations.

Here again the issue of prestige is important: a state with better relations with private corporate

actors and civil society is able to take advantage of superior international branding and has more

levers in its favor.

In the second half of the 2000s, the geostrategic uncertainty in the Arctic gave rise to a

proliferation of discourses predicting its transformation into a war-like zone. Having been a

central area of the U.S.-Soviet opposition during the Cold War and marked by numerous

incidents that could have led to an escalation of the conflict, the Arctic could potentially be

added to the long list of ―hot‖ or ―frozen‖ conflict zones. Indeed, the great world powers—the

United States, Russia, Europe, and Japan—have long rubbed shoulders here, while the rising

Asian powers—China in the lead and India following—do not conceal their interest in the

region. The changing status of NATO, as it tries to redefine its missions in a post-Cold War

world, combined with the ups and downs of NATO-Russia relations, certainly complicates the

Arctic security debate. This conflict-oriented vision has been reinforced by self-assertive rhetoric

coming from some coastal states, particularly Russia and Canada. Certain politicians and public

figures have engaged in the inflation of aggressive formulations, from the ―we will not give the

Arctic to anyone‖ of Artur Shilingarov, the Russian president‘s special representative for

cooperation in the Arctic and Antarctic, to the ―use it or lose it‖ of the Canadian Prime Minister

Stephen Harper. Although their rhetoric was aimed primarily at domestic public opinion, it also

has significant international repercussions.

24

Verbose rhetoric aside, taking the realities of climate extremes into account makes the players

much more modest and hesitant than they wish to admit. Arctic domination poses real

technological, human, and financial challenges. The economics of such an endeavor depend on

factors like long-term climatic changes and world prices for hydrocarbons and minerals, which

are difficult to measure and cannot really be assessed until 2020-2030, maybe even later. On

strategic issues the tendency has very clearly been one of de-securitization, as the Arctic region

is no longer hanging in the precarious nuclear balance of the Cold War. Despite the reprisal of

some military activities, the Arctic is increasingly persuasively viewed as a space of growing

potential cooperation where the central stakes pertain to soft security, environmental challenges,

and human security.22

No one has expressed a desire to redraw the land boundaries of the Arctic.

Claims on the Arctic continental shelf have all been presented peacefully within the framework

provided by UNCLOS. Moreover, more than 80 percent of the coveted offshore resources are

located in the exclusive economic zones of each state, and therefore do not present any potential

for conflict.23

As Alison J. K. Bailes rightfully notes, since Arctic challenges are cross-sectoral,

multi-functional, and multi-institutional,24

they push toward geopolitical cooperation and legal

innovation.

Although the Arctic does not face an objective risk of conflict, it is a legitimate security

concern.25

Several elements must actually be taken into account. First, there is a global geo-

strategic uncertainty in the Arctic that pushes certain states like Russia not toward conflict but

toward proactive policy in order to diminish this uncertainty. Second, there is a high potential for

accidents (collisions between ships or submarines, with oil platforms, or oil spills), for small-

scale, localized tensions over mineral or fish stock resources that can suddenly degenerate, or for

the misinterpretation of other players‘ actions. Finally, some states may have subjective feelings

of being marginalized vis-à-vis the Arctic or of having been robbed of their international rights.

Perceptions of threats and projections of power therefore constitute major elements in the Arctic

security debate. All of these elements combined confirm that Arctic security, being understood

as an ―inter-subjective speech act,‖ is definitely an issue.26

1.4. Geostrategic Drivers of Russia’s Objectives in the Arctic

Due to its geography and history, Russia is probably the least known regional actor. Nonetheless,

Moscow dominates the Arctic from many points of view. Geographically, Russia has direct

control of half of the Arctic coastline, 40 percent of the land area beyond the Circumpolar North,

and three quarters of the Arctic population. In total, the sea and land surface area of the Russian

Arctic is about 6 million square kilometers. Economically, as much as 20 percent of Russia‘s

gross domestic product (GDP) and of its total exports is generated north of the Arctic Circle.27

In

terms of resources, about 95 percent of its gas, 75 percent of its oil, 96 percent of its platinum, 90

percent of its nickel and cobalt, and 60 percent of its copper reserves are found in Arctic and sub-

Arctic regions. To this must be added the riches of the continental shelf, seabed, and the water

itself—often estimated but rarely proven—ranging from rare earth minerals to fish stocks.

Russia has always played a key role in the Arctic strategic balance. During the Cold War this

contributed to rising tensions between coastal states and to a focus on hard security and

sovereignty issues, but it has also facilitated the region‘s strategic de-escalation and the

promotion of international cooperation. Mikhail Gorbachev‘s famous speech in Murmansk in

25

1987 inspired the negotiations (that began two years later) for an Arctic environmental protection

strategy, and called for a series of wide-ranging proposals to be adopted on regional cooperation

in the Arctic. These include restrictions on naval activities, the establishment of a nuclear

weapons-free zone in Northern Europe, and the development of trans-border cooperation.28

The

Arctic is vital to Russia‘s national security. It is its most dynamic NATO border (much more

than the Bering Strait), its border with the EU, its access to the Atlantic Ocean, and convenient

locations for nuclear and other strategic deterrence systems.

As with other international issues, Putin‘s Russia has been sending mixed messages on the Arctic

to the international community. Moscow played an undeniable role in the escalation of

aggressive rhetoric when the Russian flag was planted in the Arctic seabed in 2007, and gave

voice to Artur Shilingarov and his provocative speeches—even though the Russian state itself

had not made any illegal claims on the continental shelf. However, since 2008-2009, Moscow

has been noticeably focused on creating a more cooperative ―Arctic brand‖ and positioning itself

as co-leader of international consensus on the region. At the time of the Arctic Forum in

September 2010, Putin affirmed, in a very Western-style speech, that ―while we are taking care

of a steady and balanced development of the Russian North, we are working to strengthen our

ties with our neighbors in our common Arctic home. And we think that preserving the Arctic as a

zone of peace and cooperation is of the utmost importance. It is our conviction that the Arctic

area should serve as a platform for uniting forces for genuine partnership in the economy,

security, science, education and the preservation of the North‘s cultural heritage.‖29

The revival of Russian interest in the Arctic led to a great deal of technocratic activity, with a

profusion of policy guidelines that were complemented by detailed programs under various

ministries and governmental agencies. A first state strategy for the Arctic was published in 2001,

and although it was hardly implemented, it signaled that the region was once again included in

Moscow‘s global security concerns, following its disappearance from the agenda during the

turbulent Yeltsin years. During his second term, Vladimir Putin re-emphasized the Arctic‘s

strategic importance for Russia, with among other things a report completed in 2004 by the

Russian State Council Working Group on National Security Interests in the North. Several legal

texts were adopted: a new Russian maritime doctrine through 2020; development plans for naval

construction, maritime transport, and the fishing industry; a state policy for maritime military

activities; and a defense strategy for state borders, inland waters, territorial seas, the continental

shelf, and Russia‘s exclusive economic zones.

Finally in September 2008, a second Arctic Strategy of the Russian Federation through 2020—

designed under the auspices of the Security Council—defined the main goals and strategic

priorities of Russia in the Arctic, including socio-economic development, military security,

environmental security, science, technology, and population challenges.30

In this document the

Arctic is explicitly presented as ―the main strategic base for Russian natural resources‖ in the

twenty-first century.31

Russia‘s goal is to be able to start taking advantage of the Arctic resources

in 2020, which seems like an optimistic timeframe. The National Security Strategy of the

Russian Federation through 2020, released in May 2009, also underlines the quest for energy

resources, which are considered to be the potential means for Russia to remain a great power.

The document confirms Russia‘s interest in the Arctic, which is elevated to the status of the

Caspian Sea and Central Asia as one of the main energy battlegrounds of the future.32

Over the

26

next decade Moscow plans to elaborate a comprehensive security system for the Arctic,

including coastal defense infrastructure, navigation aid, satellite and radar surveillance,

protection of economic activities, and early warning and crisis management capabilities.

Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, Moscow has viewed the world through its fear of being

confined to the periphery of international decision-making, and in the forthcoming decades it

will have to face many strategic dilemmas. Russia can either be a ―mediocre power,‖ as stated by

John W. Parker,33

meaning a primary international player by default due to its nuclear

capabilities, its veto power on the UN Security Council, and its size and location, but without the

capacity to promote a ―Russian voice‖ in the world order; or it can become a more European-

centered, medium-size power, with limited but assumed ambitions and capacities. In this context

the focus on the Arctic suddenly opens new options, albeit ambitious and largely disconnected

from true capacities. It could give Russia a dynamic and innovative place on the international

scene, allowing it to be seen as more than a merely key symbolic player in the world balance.34

The role of Asian countries in the Arctic, especially of China, could radically alter the shape of

the Arctic landscape, both strategically and commercially. The Russia-China axis of

convenience, already complex,35

will be influenced by relations in the Arctic.

1.5. The Arctic as a Domestic Challenge: Rethinking Russia’s Human Geography

Expected climate change and the evolution of the geostrategic, economic, and human landscape

in the Arctic constitutes a challenge for all countries concerned, but even more so for Russia, as

the Arctic directly impacts its domestic future.

The Arctic is first of all an integral part of Russian imperial history, particularly the conquest of

Siberia starting as early as the sixteenth century; then of the Soviet Union‘s history. The Stalinist

myth of the Northern Sea Route used in the 1930s and 1940s to exert the military and industrial

prowess of socialism remains influential today. Since the mid-2000s, the Arctic has been

approached as an important identity-building project for the new Russia and a domestic and

international flagship for the Kremlin, with popular support that is difficult to measure but in all

likelihood real. The Arctic also holds a significant place in Russia‘s collective imagination, an

integral part of nationhood. The dream of a ―second chance‖ due to climate change creates the

background, often subconsciously, of the Russian mindset. The notion that an evolving Arctic

might provide Russia with a last chance for great power re-opens long-term visions for the

country‘s survival, while forecasts for the medium term are largely pessimistic.

Because of the Arctic, Moscow‘s geopolitical fundaments are shifting. Russia—a traditional

symbol of continental power, both autarkic and imperialistic—suddenly sees a new ocean

opening for it.36

The Arctic‘s being frozen made it into a key element of geopolitical containment

for Russia‘s competitors, and was a major domestic route for the Soviet Union. Despite U.S.

submarine traffic in Arctic waters and regular encounters with the Norwegian navy, Moscow felt

the High North was secure and could focus on securing its west, south, and east. Today, the

balance has shifted. Russia could present itself as a maritime state, break its encirclement in a

direction until now unused, but at the same time find itself with a new border to protect. Moscow

can suddenly look with certain optimism at its immense Siberian continental hinterland, cut off

from the southern routes of the Trans-Siberian, which could become connected to the rest of the

27

world by the transformation of the Arctic Ocean into a sea transit route. Access to the Pacific

North would also shift the geopolitical and economic domestic order by emphasizing the value of

Russia‘s Pacific face, which opens onto the dynamism of Asia. The spatial projection of Russia

in general and of landlocked northern Eurasia in particular would emerge drastically changed.

Russian strategic thinking on the Arctic is thus formulated on a long-term perspective. For

Moscow, the Arctic is not its back door, but its potential twenty-first century front door.

Moreover, Russian decision-makers think—probably rightfully—that maintaining the status quo

in terms of strategic equilibrium has almost always been unfavorable to Russia for the past two

decades. For this reason, although its foreign policy is fundamentally reactive, Russia‘s policy in

the Arctic is pro-active—a new approach for Moscow thought to be better suited to advancing its

interests.37

Russia also hopes to find in the Arctic a solution to its economic dead-end. The country cannot

remain a major power without energy and mineral resources, which make up the backbone of its

economy. Even if the strategies of modernization—which have remained mere rhetoric until

now—that Dmitry Medvedev has proposed become a reality and Russia transforms itself into a

kind of post-industrial economy focused on services and the high-tech sector, the Russian state

would have to spend enormous amounts of its budget for at least two decades to finance

structural economic changes and workforce education, and the necessary funds would still have

to come from its hydrocarbons rent.38

Yet, these energy revenues needed for modernization

cannot be maintained without immediate massive investments of hundreds of billions of dollars.

The squaring of the circle will therefore be difficult to avoid. However, Western analyses that

suppose that an oil and gas-based economy is archaic are misled. The hydrocarbons industries,

and more so harsh-weather technology, is fundamentally high-tech. The major problem of the

Russian economy is therefore not limited to the question of the ―diversification‖ of its sectors.

The central problem that the Kremlin must face is that of rising costs and diminishing

capabilities: rising costs of maintaining Soviet-era infrastructure while simultaneously looking to

develop new investment sectors, and diminishing human and technological capacities. The

Russian state therefore tends to promote ways to camouflage its deficiencies while also trying to

overcome them—opening itself to international cooperation without which it cannot modernize

its industries, but without having to pay a political price. In the Arctic, Moscow will therefore

have to learn to manage the rather classical contradiction between the imperatives of

competitiveness, which imply more openness to industrial partnerships with foreign companies,

and considerations of sovereignty. This balance is perhaps more critical in Russia than in other

countries because the regime is fixated on three pillars: financial autonomy, energy security, and

domestic stability. However, these three pillars do not always seem to have compatible priorities,

and they have divergent timeframes over the short, medium, and long terms.39

When Moscow dreams of the strategic and economic potential of the Arctic it projects on the

region the ghost of the Soviet past in terms of managing a territory and its population. Russia‘s

new Arctic strategy thus indirectly reopens the debate on ―the cost of cold‖ and Russia‘s hope of

turning this cost into an asset. In a work titled The Siberian Curse, Fiona Hill and Clifford Gaddy

attempt to establish the cost—technical, financial, and human—of developing the Siberian

regions that are unfavorable to modern human settlement by creating a ―temperature per capita‖

28

system.40

While the vast territories of Canada and Australia have concentrated areas of

population and industry, the Soviet Union conceived its development as extensive and not

intensive. Territorial control was reflected in the dispersion of human settlement and of the

drivers of economic development. The Soviet regime therefore relied largely on the work of

Gulag prisoners for achieving its goals of industrialization, and it subsidized unprofitable

industries, while the population based in Siberia and the Arctic had low productivity compared to

the other regions of the country. This financial and human burden played a major role in the

Soviet collapse, marked by the misallocation of resources.

Today the Russian state must manage the heritage of its Soviet past while simultaneously

breaking free from old patterns. The question remains of whether a sparsely populated territory is

necessarily a risk for national security and border stability. Since Australia is an island, and

because Canada has a unique relationship with the United States and no other neighbors, these

countries do not view their low-population zones as problematic. However, this is not the case

for Russia. Still, the Russian Federation of today is not the Soviet Union of yesterday. Freedom

of movement is spontaneously pushing the Russian population toward the western and southern

areas of the country, leaving the eastern and northern regions deserted. But Moscow continues to

believe in the imperative of a permanent settlement in the Siberian, Far East, Arctic and Sub-

Arctic zones, and thinks that the population is ―too few‖ compared to the size of the country even

it is ―too many‖ in terms of the level of productivity.41

Thus, Moscow‘s new development

program for the Far East is based on Soviet mechanisms: heavy industrialization projects and

new incentives for the population to stay and even migrate there.42

However, as formulated this

policy has little chance of success. Siberia in general and the Arctic in particular are border

resources and must be considered separate from the rest of the Russian mainland, with specific

economic development patterns and human presence.

The famous ―modernization challenge‖ evoked by Dmitry Medvedev43

is therefore at play here.

Rethinking the role of the Arctic in twenty-first century Russia presumes that the ruling elites

open a public debate on the notion of connectedness, and that the emphasis on economic

development is focused on technology, communications, and transportation as opposed to size

and location.44

As such, the Arctic could see the emergence of a new Russia, or a resurgence of

the old. The second challenge to address is the population issue. Stuck in an unprecedented

demographic crisis, which has a decisive impact on Russia‘s workforce, particularly the educated

workforce, Russia cannot envision an Arctic future without a major migratory policy based on an

American or Canadian model. But this presumes that the Kremlin keeps the lid on the Pandora‘s

box of Russian nationalism and takes up the fight against rising xenophobia. Through the Arctic

issue, Russia sees some fundamental features of its history called into question. The mental

geography of the country is supposed to be modified in a decisive manner, and the idea that size

and location gave international stature to Russia must be reformulated, placing the emphasis on

efficiency, productivity, and the well-being of the population. The Arctic therefore illustrates

Russia‘s current crossroads of demography or geography as a destiny, and space as a blessing or

a burden.

In all likelihood, no other country in the course of recent human history has experienced the level

of change that Russia went through in 1991. But Russia still faces challenging evolutions ahead:

changes in the perception of its place in the world, likely to be more modest; changes in the

29

increasing connection with Western interests; changes in ways of life and cross-border

movement that bring Russians closer to the rest of Europe; changes in strategic challenges that

will be more non-traditional than conventional; changes in the strategic balance with China that

will give Russia a status of Beijing‘s ―junior partner‖; changes in growing insecurity coming

from the southern regions, Central Asia, Afghanistan, and the Caucasus; but also changes in

society in terms of population, migration, culture, and relation to politics.45

At the beginning of the twentieth century, the Norwegian polar explorer Fridtjof Nansen (1861-

1930) called the Russian Siberian north ―the land of the future.‖46

A century later, Russia stands

on the cusp of multiple potential Arctic futures, but its traditional ideology of space (the

appropriation of new territories, or osvoenie) must be fundamentally re-examined. Some of

Russia‘s potential futures depend on drivers outside of Moscow‘s control—such as climate

change, the global price of energy and minerals, the growing role of Asian countries, and the

evolution of technology—but Russia as a state and as a society has control over a large part of its

destiny for the twenty-first century.

Key Findings and Pathways to the Future

The Arctic is not the new geopolitical pivot-point of the twenty-first century, but it will be one of

the balance shifters in the global equilibrium of power.

The Arctic will set the tone for evolving relations between twenty-first century actors: states,

private actors, NGOs, populations, and supranational organizations.

Expected climate change constitutes an important element of the global picture, but the future of

the Arctic is not limited to it. Certain strategic factors and economic components could develop

without climate change.

A global geo-strategic uncertainty in the Arctic pushes certain states like Russia not toward

conflict but toward proactive policy in order to diminish this uncertainty.

Heightened potential for accidents (collisions of ships or oil spills), for small-scale tensions (over

mineral or fish stock resources) that could suddenly degenerate, or for misinterpretations of

attitudes of the other players creates security risks in the Arctic.

Perceptions of threats and projections of power constitute major elements in the Arctic security

debate.

The Arctic does not face a real risk of conflict but is a legitimate security concern.

The growing role of non-Arctic powers, mainly Asian ones, can be an element of stability but

also a component of strategic escalation. Their role in the Arctic balance needs to be carefully

monitored, especially because China, Korea, and Japan could partly transfer their mutual

tensions to this region. The Russia-China axis of convenience, already complex, will be

influenced by the relation in the Arctic.

30

Moscow views the world through its fear of being confined to the periphery of international

decision-making. The focus on the Arctic suddenly opens new options, albeit ones that are

ambitious and largely disconnected from its actual capacities. Russia hopes to gain a dynamic,

innovative place on the international scene, and to be seen as more than a merely symbolic

player in the world balance.

Russia‘s global geopolitical fundaments are moving. The Arctic Ocean was an aspect of

geopolitical containment for Russia‘s competitors and a secure major transport route for

Moscow. Today, this balance has shifted. Russia could suddenly present itself as a maritime

state, break its encirclement in a direction until now unused, but at the same time find itself with

a new border to protect.

The spatial projection of Russia in general and of landlocked northern Eurasia in particular

would emerge drastically changed.

Russian strategic thinking on the Arctic is formulated on a long-term perspective. For Moscow,

the Arctic is not its back door, but its potential twenty-first century front door.

The Kremlin thinks that maintaining the status quo in terms of strategic equilibrium has almost

always been unfavorable to Russia for the past two decades. For this reason, although Russian

foreign policy is fundamentally reactive, Moscow‘s approach to the Arctic is pro-active.

Russia hopes to find in the Arctic a solution to its economic dead-end. The central problem that

the Kremlin must face is that of rising costs and diminishing capabilities.

The Russian regime is fixated on three pillars: financial autonomy, energy security, and domestic

stability. However, these pillars do not always seem to have compatible priorities, and they have

divergent timeframes over the short, medium, and long term.

Russia faces an unprecedented demographic crisis and lack of workforce, particularly the

educated workforce. But Russia also believes that the size and location of its territory can ensure

the survival of the country. The Arctic therefore illustrates Russia‘s current crossroad of whether

demography or geography will be its destiny.

31

2. EXPECTED CLIMATE CHANGE AND ITS IMPACT ON RUSSIA

There is substantial evidence to indicate that global warming of some significance will occur

during the twenty-first century. Russia‘s vast territory will be particularly affected, as the

northern zones of the globe have proven especially fragile faced with climate evolution. The

national scale is a complex matter, however, as regional and local scales are particularly difficult

to model. The fourth Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC AR4) does not include

predictions specifically focused on Russia, but integrates it into the overall northern Asia area.

Warming in this region is expected to be well above the global mean. It is also expected that

Russia will be one of the countries that stands to benefit the most from these climate changes,

with positive aspects for its economy, especially in the sectors of agriculture and

hydroelectricity. But it will also have to endure negative effects, ranging from permafrost thaw to

massive droughts. The Russian state‘s stance on the issue of climate change is contradictory in

many instances, but has been evolving over the last few years. Skeptical on the whole, Moscow

is above all looking to protect its economic interests, ready only to engage in limited processes of

adaptation, but not of mitigation.

2.1. Climate Change in the Arctic

The debates around climate change probably constitute one of the most intense scientific

polemics known to humanity. This is the case for three reasons: the first is globalization, since

the exchange of information throughout the world makes it possible to discuss from one end of

the planet to the other, such that Indian and Chinese researchers are just as involved in it as their

Western colleagues; second is the fact that the consequences of a prospective drastic climate

change will affect the entirety of the planet, confronting everyone from the richest to the poorest

countries; lastly, the debates involve taking decisions concerning the global evolution of

humanity.

Let us go from the most consensual to the most contested points. All researchers in the world

recognize that the climate is evolving: the planet is a living being, and its climate continues to

change as it previously had throughout the millennia. A majority of them agree that there was an

increase in the overall temperature of the earth of 0.7°C during the twentieth century, mainly

because the concentration of carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gases in the atmosphere has

increased since the start of the industrial era, added to which is the related question of

stratospheric ozone depletion. There is far from total unanimity on this issue, but those who

reject the idea that there is a tendency toward warming constituted a minority in the 2000s. The

question of the role of human activity in these evolutions, by contrast, is the subject of far more

bitter debates, since fundamental strategies of economic development are at stake. While

majority opinion thinks that this change is mainly, but not solely man-made, others maintain that

it has more to do with natural evolutions (solar activities, major volcanic eruptions, and natural

climatic cycles) over which we have no control.1

The difficulty involved in taking a stance can be explained by the multiplicity of analytic criteria,

their highly technical nature, as well as the possible diversity of interpretations. Added to this are

specific ideological and economic bases, which means that some lobbies have every interest in

promoting a catastrophist reading of this question or, on the contrary, in playing down its

32

importance, or indeed denying it altogether. The alarmists denounce the role of the industrial

lobbies, in particular those linked to the extraction of fossil fuels and automobile production,

which do not want to see their mode of production, or the profits they gain from it, undermined.2

The skeptics, however, are concerned about the possible emergence of a ―green‖ political

newspeak, shaped by movements such as Greenpeace, and more still of an ideology of ―de-

growth‖ that goes as far as to reject even the idea of sustainable development.3 Two logics of

reaction to climate change also come head to head: that which appeals to procedures of

mitigation that would make it possible to slow down the release of greenhouse gas emissions into

the atmosphere by modifying patterns of economic development; and that which insists on

adaption, claiming that climate change cannot be stopped and so the resiliency of human

societies must be developed. This debate is fundamental, as it implies differing economic

commitments, as well as contradictory strategies of development.4

Human Impact Development Scenario in 2050

Prospective works on climate change base themselves on long-term data, which make it possible

to have an overview of the climate several decades from now, essentially in the second half of

the twenty-first century. The polemic surrounding the ability to draw up these models—

according to which mathematical combinations and in line with which information—is numerous

and exceeds the limits of the present work.5 However, all are in agreement in recognizing that

medium-term modeling (20-30 years) of the process of climate change is particularly difficult;

the interpretation is more complicated for small temporal scales. It is therefore a very complex

33

matter to prove the causal relation between any particular climatic event, such as, for example,

the immense bush fires that occurred in Russia in the summer of 2010, and climate change as

such. The link between perceptions of climate change, situated at the level of a human life, often

bear no major connection with the functioning of the planet, which takes place on a temporal

scale ciphered in millions of years.6

However, while the future is not known, the past certainly is, as is the present at least in general

terms. The climate change prognostics carried out in the 1980s and at the beginning of the 1990s

were nearly all caught by surprise by contemporary evolutions. The changes visible today are

much greater and have occurred much more rapidly than forecasts had predicted twenty years

ago. It is therefore possible to work not simply with forecasts but with patterns that are occurring

in real time.

Both polar caps comprise particularly fragile regions in environmental terms, and are deemed to

be the most susceptible to changes in climate. The Arctic is even more fragile than the Antarctic:

the former is an ocean covered over with ice, the latter an ice-covered continent. In 2004, the

Arctic Climate Impact Assessment (ACIA), a body of the Arctic Council, published a detailed

report on the consequences of climate change in the Arctic region. The work involved the

collaboration of more than 300 researchers. It formed the first comprehensively researched and

independently reviewed evaluation of Arctic climate change and its impacts on the region and

the world. It was followed up by a National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration report

done in 2006, which supplied supplementary data and is updated every year. These reports are

complemented by others, such as Arctic Climate Impact Science—An Update Since ACIA, which

was carried out by the World Wildlife Fund in 2008. The fourth Intergovernmental Panel on

Climate Change (IPCC AR4) also quickly became one of the most quoted reference texts, as

much for its state of the art modeling in physical science as for its forecasts on impacts,

adaptation, and vulnerability, and directions given concerning mitigation.7

Today the Arctic is considered the region to have been the most affected by climate change. Air

temperatures have risen at almost twice the rate of the global average over the past few decades.

The interaction between the different components of nature is tighter here, creating a sort of

cumulative effect with feedback processes called ―Arctic amplification.‖8 The symptoms of

climate change are multiple, including a noted rise in summertime temperatures, a shorter and

warmer winter season, and an increase in precipitation in the spring. In Alaska and western

Canada, wintertime temperatures have risen from 3 to 4°C over a period of fifty years.9 During

the record year of 2007, some surface water ice-free areas were as much as 5°C higher than the

long-term average.10

Temperatures in the Arctic have already warmed globally as much as 4°C over the last decades,

and the area covered with perennial ice has receded significantly in 2010, falling to nearly half

the area observed in 2005. The ice cover is the most affected. It has involved a reduction of at

least 10 percent of Arctic snow cover since the 1980s; a sharp decrease of the Arctic Sea ice

extent in all seasons, with summer sea ice declining most dramatically; and a reduction of the

thickness of sea ice, as well as thawing permafrost, diminishing lake and river ice, and rising

river flows.11

The Greenland Ice Sheet has been especially affected. The melting of mountain

glaciers has also accelerated. Those in Alaska, where melting began long ago, have more

34

recently been joined by the glaciers of Scandinavia and on Svalbard. Some scientists therefore

suggest that the forecast scenario predicting an almost ice-free Arctic by 2040 is outdated and

that the Arctic Ocean could be ice-free during the summer by 2015.12

Projected Changes in the Arctic Climate

Climate change has a cascading effect on bio-systems. Arctic vegetation zones are likely to shift;

wetland can disappear in one area, and appear in others; the tree line will move further north;

new agricultures will be made possible, as will disturbances from insect outbreaks and forest

fires in the zones of the taiga; and the diversity of fauna and flora will further decline, with

threats to the natural habitats of polar species.13

Nor will human habitats be spared. Storms and

floods will increase in number; soil erosion will quicken; thawing permafrost will endanger

human and industrial settlements; and indigenous communities will have to confront drastic

changes.14

These evolutions are not limited to the Arctic region alone; their impact will be global and occur

on three levels. First, the reflexivity of solar energy will change, as ice caps absorb more solar

radiation than water, which is darker. As they shrink, ice caps will absorb less and less solar

energy. Second, melting glaciers will lead to rising sea levels and, due to temperatures and

35

salinity, to a change in the directions of major ocean currents. Warmer water will enter the Arctic

Ocean from the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans, and fresh water flowing from the Arctic ice will

enter the world mainstreams.15

Last, melting glaciers will induce changes in the amounts of

greenhouses gases emitted into the atmosphere and could therefore lead to a shift on atmospheric

climate patterns, with an increase ultraviolet radiation reaching the earth‘s surface. The Arctic

Ocean is a globally important net sink for carbon dioxide, which it absorbs from the atmosphere;

and a large amount of methane is frozen in the methane hydrates found in ocean sediments and

permafrost. Altering patterns of frozen soils could therefore increase methane release into the

atmosphere.16

The global transformation of the Arctic is now occurring at a pace not anticipated even a few

years ago. For the year 2010, the NOAA report confirmed a general tendency to more rapid than

predicted change in the Arctic.17

Greenland‘s climate in 2010 was marked by record-setting high

air temperatures, ice loss by melting, and marine-terminating glacier area loss. The year also saw

record warm air temperatures across the Canadian Arctic, record snow cover decreases, and the

loss of thick multi-year ice in the Beaufort Sea during summer. The combination of warm spring

air temperatures and low winter snow accumulation led to a new record minimum in springtime

snow cover duration over the Arctic. The first half of 2010 shows a near record pace in

temperatures with monthly anomalies of over 4°C in northern Canada. On September 19, 2010,

sea ice extent reached a minimum of 4.6 million square kilometers. The 2010 minimum is the

third-lowest recorded since 1979, surpassed only by 2008 and the record low in 2007. The active

layer of Arctic permafrost is becoming steadily deeper, and in 2011 Greenland‘s Ice Sheet has

been melting more rapidly than previously thought.

These evolutions are not uniform, however, and several Arctic sub-regions are taking shape: one

from eastern Greenland to western Russia, the Siberian shelf, one from Chukotka to the Western

Canadian Arctic, and one from the Central Canadian Arctic to West Greenland.18

Russia thus

straddles two or three climactic sub-regions of the Arctic. It will also have to contend with the

climate changes expected in other regions of its immense territory.

2.2. Russia facing Climate Change and New Economic Patterns

Studies on the impact of climate change in Russia are relatively unknown given its immense size

and location in high northern latitudes. This underrepresentation is explained by a lack of

information exchange. Russian teams working on climate modeling find it difficult to get their

results recognized abroad and international teams have little access to information in Russian.

However, two of the major Russian climate modeling centers, the Institute for Numerical

Mathematics and the Oboukhov Institute of Atmospheric Physics in the Russian Academy of

Sciences, have submitted simulation data as part of the IPCC fourth assessment process. A third

center, the St. Petersburg V.A. Fock Institute of Physics, has also developed its own research

instruments. Roshydromet, the Federal Service for Hydrometeorology and Environmental

Monitoring, and its 1,600 meteorological stations, is the leading scientific institute for

meteorology in Russia. It works mainly with the Atmosphere–Ocean General Circulation Models

(AOGCMs), which it considers ―the main and the most promising tool for prediction of future

climate changes due to internal interactions between different components of the climate system

and external forcings of natural and anthropogenic origin.‖19

36

In terms of temperatures, studies by Roshydromet show that warming in Russia is greater than

global warming in total. Russia had a rise 1.29°C in temperatures over the last hundred years

(1907–2006), whereas global warming for the same period was only 0.74°C. Furthermore, mean

warming in the country was 1.33°C over the last thirty years (1976–2006).20

Winter temperatures

in Siberia have increased by 2 to 3°C over the last century, with recent strong springtime

warming in the Urals and West Siberia. Surface air temperature increased by 0.4°C during the

1990s and 2000s alone. In the Russian Arctic, surface air temperatures have warmed 0.2°C per

decade over the past thirty years, precipitation has increased, and summers are warmer. Russia

accounts for the greater part of the so-called ―poles of temperature increase,‖ located in the Altai,

the Chita and Irkutsk regions, and the south of Siberia.

Forecasts emphasize the acceleration of these evolutions. For the whole country, projections

suggest that average winter temperatures will have increased by an additional 1°C by 2015.

According to Roshydromet, by 2020 temperature growth in Russia will exceed the multi-model

spread (standard deviation), which is 1.1 ± 0.5°C. By the middle of the century, the temperature

rise will be even larger (2.6 ± 0.7°C), particularly in winter (3.4 ± 0.8°C).21

Maximum

temperature changes are expected to occur in the winter in the Arctic, with significant

precipitation in Eastern Siberia. The temperature increases will be smaller during the summer

time, except in southern regions, where it could reach 2–3°C by the middle of the twenty-first

century. According to the World Wildlife Fund assessment, a 30 percent increase in winter

precipitation totals is expected on the Taymyr Peninsula by 2050 and a 15-20 percent increase in

Chukotka and the Barents Sea region.22

Total precipitation will more than double current levels

in the eastern Russian Arctic.

From 1978 to 1996 the Siberian Arctic experienced sea-ice reductions of 17.6 percent per decade

in summer for the Barents and Kara seas, and a 3.7 percent per decade for the Chukchi, East

Siberian, and Laptev seas. Observations also indicate that the area of winter fast ice in the

Russian Arctic decreased by 11.3 percent from 1975 to 1993 and that the influx of multi-year ice

from the Central Arctic Ocean decreased by 14 percent from 1978 to 1998.23

Many studies focus

on land-based changes in the Arctic: in the last two decades of the twentieth century, the

boundary of multi-year ice in the eastern sector of the Arctic shifted southward by 300

kilometers on average relative to the previous two decades.24

Russian and international

researchers have also noted changes in vegetation patterns (shifting of the borders of the tundra

and of different types of taiga25

), in sea level rise, in the recession of mountain glaciers in

Novaya Zemlya and the Caucasus, and in soil erosion. On this latter point, however, the most

recent information relating to erosion processes in Russia comes mainly from the mid-1980s.26

It

is also difficult to dissociate direct human activity from the global impact of climate change on

this erosion. The excessive agriculture, deforestation, and mining organized on a large scale by

the Soviet economic system have seriously damaged the soils and accelerated wind erosion.

More is known about changes in river water levels. The average annual discharge of fresh water

from the six largest Eurasian rivers (Yenisei, Lena, Ob, Kolyma, Pechora, and Severnaia Dvina)

into the Arctic Ocean increased by 7 percent between 1936 and 1999. Rivers‘ ice cover duration

is expected to reduce by 15-27 days and their ice cover to be 20-40 percent thinner,27

which will

increase the discharge of fresh water, and affect sea ice distribution and the circulation of Arctic

waters.

37

Covering 60 percent of the country, permafrost is an issue of special importance to Russia. The

annual ground temperature has increased by 1.0°C on many parts of the permafrost zone of

western Siberia and by 0.8–1.0°C in the northwestern regions.28

Studies reveal that, since the

1970s, there has been a tendency toward temperature increase in the top layers of frozen ground

of between 0.22 and 1.56°C. A 30-40 percent increase in active layer thickness for most of the

permafrost area is projected. Seasonal thaw depths are predicted to increase by more than 50

percent in the northernmost permafrost regions, and 30-50 percent elsewhere, by around 2050.29

By 2100, it is predicted that almost 60 percent of current permafrost regions will thaw and freeze

on a seasonal basis, and that near-surface permafrost will decline. Melting of permafrost will

lead to increases in landslides, mudflows, and other abrupt changes in the landscape. It will also

imply a relatively large increase of carbon dioxide and methane emission along the Arctic coast,

as well as in central Siberia and Yakutia, with the expected feedback effect.30

Indeed methane

hydrates contained in this permafrost are 26 times more potent than carbon dioxide molecules in

terms of their greenhouse warming effect.31

Climate change will have a serious impact on the entirety of the Russian territory in terms of

agriculture and access to water. Some of these changes will be positive, since the growing season

will be longer, conditions for growing winter crops will improve, new agricultural lands further

to the north will be exploitable, and new crops, such as cotton, grapes, tea, and citrus, will be

able to be cultivated in the North Caucasus and southern Volga regions.32

Conditions for

growing corn in the Stavropol region have already improved. From 1970 to 2000, the growing

season lengthened by an average of 5-10 days over much of the agricultural regions in European

Russia. In the Central Black Earth and Volga regions, the frequency of very cold winters

decreased by an average of 18-22 percent in the period up to 1990.33

However, this evolution

also implies that Russian agriculture will become more and more reliant on irrigation.34

Other changes will present more complex problems. The northward migration of plant species

will modify biodiversity patterns; an increase in the number of wildfires may accelerate the

disappearance of Russian forest space, the largest in the world after the Amazon; and an

expansion of insect outbreaks, such as locusts and mosquitoes, and ticks may become a public

health threat. The middle, or Black Earth, regions of the country, which are known for their role

as ―bread basket‖ areas and enjoy a temperate climate, will be beset as well by more drastic

climate processes: precipitation, droughts, reduced springtime river runoff, and more water

shortages. The southern regions of the country, those of the North Caucasus federal district, will

experience extensive periods of drought. Already recorded droughts have reduced crop cover by

an area of more than two million hectares.35

These regions will experience reductions in yields of

about 20 percent by 2020.36

This drop in production will be compensated, but somewhat

insufficiently, by the development of grain yields in more northern regions. Periods of drought in

key agricultural regions are expected to be 50-100 percent more frequent by 2015.37

The question of water is also central. The annual river runoff in the western regions of Russia

increased by 15-40 percent for the period 1978–2005 relative to that of 1946–1977.38

Most of

Russian territory, in particular Siberia and northwest Russia, will experience increased water

flows due to glacial melt and growing precipitation, which implies more river ice jams and

flooding. By 2015, there is likely to be more flooding in river basins in the Arkhangelsk region,

38

the Komi Republic, the Ural area, and of the Yenisei and Lena.39

At the same time, other regions

of Russia will experience water shortages, especially in the Black Earth lands, which are already

under chronic water stress. The situation will be worse in the southern regions (Kalmykia,

Krasnodar, Stavropol, and Rostov), which will likely have to contend with water supply

reductions on the order of 5-15 percent.40

The drinking water supply for the major Russian cities,

and in particular the Moscow metropolis, will become a significant issue. By 2015, it is expected

that ―zones of environmental discomfort‖ will have shifted northwards by about 60 kilometers in

northwestern Russia (Komi Republic and Arkhangelsk region), by about 150 kilometers in the

Khanty-Mansi and Evenki autonomous areas, and by about 250 kilometers in the Republic of

Sakha-Yakutia and in the north of the Irkutsk region and the Khabarovsk territory. 41

Rising sea levels are also problematic. Projections show sea level rise will occur mainly in the

Baltic Sea, the Gulf of Finland, and the White Sea, which will increase the dangers of serious

flooding for Kaliningrad and St. Petersburg, as well as the risks of storms and tsunamis. It is

considered that there is a high risk of flooding in St. Petersburg before 2030.42

The level of the

Black Sea has been rising significantly since the 1980s, and if this trend continues it will affect

Novorossiisk, Russia‘s main warm water port, where dry cargoes, crude oil, and refined

petroleum products are exported. It would also impact Sevastopol, Russia‘s main Black Sea

military base, situated in the Ukraine.43

For the Pacific coast, the forecasts of sea level rise are

moderate, but the probabilities of tsunamis occurring will be much greater, with potential

dangers for Vladivostok. Lastly, for the Arctic coastline, the key question will be that of coastal

erosion, although Murmansk may also be subject to risks of flooding.

Expected climate change will have a major impact on the function of the Russian economy. The

idea that a rise in average temperature will lead to a drop in energy consumption for heating

remains contested. The Russian Federation‘s Fourth National Communication under the UN

Framework Convention on Climate Change predicted that a reduction in heating requirements

would result in a net fuel savings of 5-10 percent nationwide by 2025,44

but the information put

forward is contradictory. Even if the heating season becomes shorter, the consumption of other

categories of energy, for instance electricity, will increase, even if only for air conditioning

during the summer months.

Among the positive aspects of climate change on the Russian economy, the majority of

researchers seem to agree that, in addition to agriculture, the hydroelectric sector will develop

thanks to an 8-10 percent increase in water volume by 2015.45

The growing availability of water

in the main Russian rivers will therefore be able to be used to produce energy. According to

Roshydromet, the Volga-Kamsk Cascade will experience a net increase of 10-20 percent in water

flows, and the Siberian power dams along the Angarsk-Yenisei, Viliu, Kolyma, and Zeya of 15

percent.46

Even if the contrary situation is likely to be the case in the south of the country—since

extreme downpours will be difficult to manage and there will be a drop in production owing to

reduced river flows—Russia should come out of this process ahead. However, the Russian

electricity system will have to contend with complex situations linked to increased risks of

flooding and growing winds, which will be about 20 percent stronger in Arctic regions and the

North Caucasus.47

39

Last but not least, the progressive thawing of the permafrost will present major challenges to

Russia‘s economic system, since it will result in the creation of thermokarst and unstable soil

conditions.48

The Russian railway system, in particular the Baikal-Amur Mainline (BAM), will

be undermined in Siberia, since the possibility of a change in the permafrost was not taken into

account during its construction. Similarly, electric transmission lines were not built to withstand

changes in soil structures, or conditions of upper-soil layer thaw and re-freeze. The Russian road

network, already very inefficient and the least developed of the G8 countries, will have better

snow cover conditions, but will have to contend with an increase in weather variability, which

will result in downpours, mudslides, soil erosion, floods, etc. In Siberia and the Far East, the

traditional use of seasonal ice roads will become more problematic due to the shorter cold

season, which will put further limits on already reduced trips from one town to another, with the

exception of air travel. The well developed river transport system will be positively affected,

though the challenges of weather instability will have to be taken into account, as will the drop in

water levels in the Don River Basin.49

The stability of existing urban and industrial infrastructure will be very seriously put into

question. The impact of climate change is already visible. In the 1990s-2000s the rate of reported

damage to buildings due to soil instability increased by about 42 percent in Norilsk, 61 percent in

Yakutsk, and 90 percent in Amderma. About 21 percent of reported damages to western Siberian

pipelines occur by the melting of underlying permafrost.50

More than 7,000 accidents related to

the melting of permafrost and soil degradation in western Siberia were reported in 2007. While

the United States and Canada preferred to use components made of wood and aluminum in the

polar zone, Soviet construction continued to use reinforced concrete and poor quality steel, both

of which are ill-suited to very low temperatures. This damage did not only occur in low

population areas. About 60 percent of all industrial infrastructure of the Usa Basin, a very

populated area by northern Russian standards, is located in a high-risk permafrost zone.51

In

addition, about thirty so-called ―impact zones,‖ with high level of atmospheric pollution,

degradation of vegetation and soil, and incidence of disease among the local population, have

been identified in the Russian Arctic region. There is also a potential danger of radioactive

contamination in several places. Each year the mining company Apatit stores approximately 30

million tons of waste on the Kola Peninsula. Many radioactive waste storage sites are located in

permafrost areas, for instance on Novaya Zemlya, and ageing spent nuclear fuel storage facilities

are no longer secured.52

40

41

The energy sector, which forms the spinal column of the Russian economy, will be the first to

encounter the higher costs of expected climate change; 93 percent of natural gas and 75 percent

of oil production occurs in permafrost zones. In addition to the ageing of extraction

infrastructure, constructed mainly in the 1970s, the transport system is not adapted to deal with

changes in soil stability. The above-ground pipelines are not secured to cope with the seasonal

thawing of the permafrost, and cannot accommodate any increased water flow. The question of

hydrocarbon transport to export and consumption centers will have to be rethought, as well.

Despite the possible emergence of a Northern Sea Route, transport will become more difficult.

The zones to be crossed in passing from the key extractions sites in western Siberia and the

Volga region to Europe will be further subject to drastic changes in soil stability. Accessing the

main gas deposits of the future will also be made more challenging. There are, for instance,

growing concerns that the entire low-lying Yamal Peninsula could disappear due to subsidence

from permafrost melting.53

The construction of extraction sites will require supplying material

via land transit, although the soil will be unstable. It will thus be necessary to build new and

much more costly pipelines with deeper foundations to avoid structural damage from subsidence.

The gas sites of the Far East and eastern Siberia will also be challenged by melting permafrost,

swollen rivers, and more frequent storms.

2.3. Russian Stances and Debates about Climate Change

Soviet thinking on climatology focused mainly on the question of climate evolution, which it

defined by long, natural cycles of cooling and heating. It developed no discourse about the

impact of human activity, since that would have stood in contradiction with the conviction of the

regime on society‘s ability to master nature.54

In the 1990s, the high level of state disorganization

and the lack of public funding drove hundreds of thousands of specialists to emigrate to the

West, change professions, or retire early. The financial situation by and large turned around in

the 2000s, but the damage had been done. Large gaps persist in the intergenerational

transmission of knowledge, material dating from the Soviet era has aged, and Russian teams,

which are very competent, still remain poorly integrated into international consortiums.

The present Russian school of climatology can be schematically divided into three major

currents: those who maintain that there is no global warming due to human activity and that such

warming boils down to natural processes; those who think that global warming exists but that it

will bring net positive benefits for Russia; and those who are convinced of the dangers of these

changes. The first two viewpoints largely dominate in the Russian institutions that are

responsible for examining this question. Yuri Izrael, director of the Institute of Global Climate

and Ecology, and Vladimir Melnikov, director of the Russian Institute on the Earth‘s

Cryosphere, are the main voices on climate change; they either deny its human impact or deem

that the change will be positive for Russia. A similar viewpoint has long been put forward by

institutions such as Roshydromet, the All-Russia Research Institute of Agricultural Meteorology,

the Voeikov Main Geophysical Observatory, the Hydrometeorological Center of the Russian

Federation, the Research Center for Space Meteorology, and by other institutions linked with

Arctic exploration, such as the Arctic and Antarctic Research Institute and the Institute for

Cultural Heritage.

42

Nevertheless, opinion began to change in the second half of the 2000s. Russian scientific

institutions acknowledged that warming seemed to be occurring, and that this was in part due to

anthropogenic factors.55

In 2006, for example, Roshydromet published a Strategic Prediction of

Climate Change Expected in Russia for the Period 2010-2015 and its Impact upon Sectors of the

Russian National Economy. The report puts special emphasis on the severe rise in extreme

weather events and environmental hazards in agriculture, and on the need to begin preparing for

them.56

This point of view was backed up by a new document published in 2008 titled the

Assessment Report on Climate Change and its Consequences in the Russian Federation. The

document states that ―a comparison of simulated and observed variations of surface air

temperature provides convincing evidence supporting the anthropogenic nature of observed

climate warming.‖57

However in December 2009, just before the UN Climate Change

Conference COP-15, the director of the Ministry of Energy‘s research institute claimed that

global warming could be attributed to the slowing of the Earth‘s rotation, and the Institute of

Oceanography issued a report that stated that human activity is not a major factor in climate

change.58

Some Russian think tanks have decided to directly attack European discourse on

climate change. Thus, the Institute of Economic Analysis claimed the British Meteorological

Office used statistics from weather stations in Russia that fitted the office‘s theory of global

warming, but ignored the data of the three-quarters of them that did not.59

The official position of the Russian state has followed the scientists‘ changes in positions. In

2003, during the World Climate Change Conference in Moscow, Russia took a distinctly

skeptical position. Russian politicians have been very vocal on the climate issue, viewing it as a

Western fantasy or an object of anti-Russian propaganda. Vladimir Putin, who was president at

the time, stated for instance that warming of 2-3°C would be a good thing for Russia, joking that

it would no longer be necessary to wear fur coats and that agricultural production would get a

boost.60

In 2010, after the immense fires that ravaged one quarter of the cereal crops, visiting a

meteorological station on Lena, he implied that human activity probably played no great role in

global warming.61

As Sergei Mironov, the speaker of the Federation Council, explained in 2007,

the impact of greenhouse gas emissions on the climate had not been studied sufficiently to push

for a change of economic strategies.62

In 2010, he reiterated his skepticism by providing

ideological reading of the debates, implying that Western countries were trying to limit the

Russian economy by exerting pressure on it in the name of ecology.63

Although it continues to be dominated by the idea that Russia stands to gain from it, or at least

that it has less to lose than other developed countries, Russian political discourse about climate

change has become less skeptical. In 2009, in preparation for the Copenhagen Climate

Conference, Minister of Natural Resources and Ecology Yuri Trutnev unveiled a Russia‘s

Climate Doctrine for 2030-2050 that outlines the country‘s response to climate change. The tone

is drastically altered and henceforth seems more in tune with that of the international community.

Rather than putting the usual emphasis on the benefits of climate change, the doctrine warns of

serious climate-induced challenges, even at the level of human life. It calls for the creation of an

institution to supervise climate change, for environmental regulations and legislation to be

updated in order to bring Russia in line with international norms on climate change; for the

stimulation of responsible resource use and efficiency; and for increased resilience in key

economic sectors such as agriculture, transport, and energy. The minister himself recognized that

climate change could cause up to a 5 percent reduction of Russia‘s GDP.64

43

The doctrine marks the first attempt at institutionalizing a climate change policy in Russia;

however, its text provides no precise strategy and remains purely declarative. It is thus difficult

to say whether it was drafted specifically for Copenhagen, or whether it constitutes a veritable

change in the perceptions of the ruling elites.65

Some of Dmitry Medvedev‘s statements lean in

favor of this latter position. In February 2010, the Russian president delivered a highly unusual

speech on climate change, in which he insisted on its negative impact and the dangers for

humanity. He issued a wake-up call to heads of state and social organizations, and requested the

creation of economic incentives to address climate change, pointing out that Russia is still quite a

long way behind most developed countries in monitoring and forecasting climate change. He

repeated these ideas in a speech to the Security Council and issued a presidential instruction to

the government to approve a package of measures for implementing the doctrine by the end of

2010. For the first time, climate change was discussed as a threat to national security.66

It

remains to be seen whether this issue is henceforth being taken seriously, or if there is a

Putin/Medvedev dichotomy on climate change, interpreted either as a real disagreement or a

sharing of tasks in respect of public opinion and the international community.

Environmental questions, and especially those concerning climate change, are rarely brought up

in Russian public opinion. To date, the Russian media has done very little to investigate such

topics, which compared with other publicly discussed issues, have by and large been relegated to

the background. In 2009, a world survey revealed that Russians—in this way similar to

Americans and in contrast to Europeans—felt much less concerned by climate change and a

majority of them felt they were not affected by it.67

About 85 percent of the people surveyed

declared they were aware of climate change but only 39 percent perceived it as a serious personal

threat.68

This situation, however, changed with the forest fires in 2010. Even if there exists no

direct relation between these events and the modeling projections, public opinion saw in them

the proof that climate change could turn out to be a destructive force. However, the debate

remains dominated by a few stakeholders; the private sector is not fully involved beyond pushing

for Joint Implementation project approvals, and it is unlikely that Russian ―civil society‖ will be

able to pressure public opinion and the government into becoming more engaged in its

understanding of climate change. The NGOs are generally gagged, especially those working on

ecological questions, but public opinion remains focused on other short and medium term issues.

The Russian Federation‘s position within the international scene of climate change therefore

remains ambiguous. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, Moscow repeated incessantly that it

could not slow down its economic revival in the name of environmental issues. Russia did,

however, play a key role in the implementation of the Kyoto Protocol to the UNFCCC, initially

adopted in 1997, but which only entered into effect when Moscow‘s ratification was gained in

2005. Following U.S. refusal, the collected signatures were insufficient to reach the minimum

threshold of 55 percent of global carbon emissions. As the third-largest emitter of global carbon

emissions, Russia‘s participation was thus decisive, transforming Kyoto into a legally binding

commitment for developed countries and some transition economies. But Moscow accepted the

protocol as it stood to lose nothing from it. The text is based on 1990-level global carbon

emissions which, following the post-Soviet industrial collapse, guarantees that Russia will not

attain its maximal threshold until 2020. In December 2009, Russia was still 40 percent below the

baseline and was therefore able to sell part of its carbon credit. It signed the protocol in the

44

anticipation of gains.69

In addition, Russia‘s ratification of the protocol served as a ―currency

exchange‖ in its negotiations with the European Union concerning its bilateral World Trade

Organization (WTO) accession protocol, and it worked to enhance Russia‘s international image,

in particular relative to the United States.70

Despite its ratification of the Kyoto Protocol, Moscow believes it does not have to accept any

binding agreement that would be damaging to its economy, especially as the United States

refuses to submit to it. Russia remains a passive actor in the construction of the international

climate regime, yet the tone continues to be contradictory. In 2009, during preparatory

negotiations for the post-Kyoto era in 2012, Medvedev declared that Russia is ready to become

more active, and proposed a 20 to 25 percent drop in further greenhouse gas emissions from the

1990 baseline (eventually Russia committed to a 15 to 25 percent reduction). Russia did not

demand to transfer the quota surplus (equal to over 3 billion tons of CO2) it had accumulated

under Kyoto, but that its forest sinks being taken into account in calculations of its overall

emissions.71

Russia could also potentially try to reclassify itself as an emerging economy,

entailing less binding agreements.72

In addition, the data for different industrial and forest sectors

remain incomplete and make it difficult to measure Russia‘s implementation of and compliance

with Kyoto protocols, which appears limited, but is not non-existent.73

Only some big companies

have started to address carbon issues and have given detailed information about their greenhouse

gas emissions.74

Moscow‘s environmental policy remains very limited. Russia holds the largest portfolio of

carbon credits, but will not manage to sell them well before their expiration in 2012. It also has

more than 50 percent of the world‘s Joint Implementation projects market, with a total

greenhouse gas reduction potential over 150 MtC (million tons of carbon). Its holds the largest

national terrestrial carbon pool associated with the boreal forest of Northern Eurasia.75

However,

Russia is now the fourth largest emitter of carbon dioxide (CO2) behind the United States,

China, and India, although it is only the world‘s eighth largest economic power. It is one of the

highest energy consumers among industrial powers, as it has an incredible lack of energy

efficiency that includes everything from households to large companies. Russia consumes six

times as much as the United States for each dollar of GPD in purchasing power parities,76

and its

growing per capita emissions are to approach U.S. levels by 2030. This can be partly explained

by its cold climate, but above all reveals a large amount of energy waste in industrial process.

Russia is the country of the greatest waste. Its depreciation of capital stocks is over 46 percent in

the natural resource extractions sector, 53 percent in transport, 70 percent in the thermal power

sector, and 80 percent in hydropower.77

The World Bank and the Russian Center for Energy

Efficiency found that Russia could save 45 percent of its total primary energy consumption if it

were to implement reform. The impact of the 2008 economic crisis therefore contributed to

raising awareness among Russian ruling elites about the huge possible energy savings to be

gained through greater efficiency.

The Russian strategy is therefore relatively consistent. Climate policy remains subordinated to

economic imperatives, which are themselves centered on fossil fuels; strategies of mitigation are

considered irrelevant and useless, impossible to implement, or too costly. Moscow advocates

adaptation, but not mitigation, a stance that emerges very clearly from the 2009 doctrine, which

does not seek to address the root causes of climate change. Even though the opinion of the ruling

45

elites on climate change happens to be changing, Russia is likely to keep maintaining that the

world is dealing with a fait accompli that cannot be fought against, that it is necessary to

continue to rely on fossil fuel production, and that all climate policy ought to be limited to

alleviating effects and adapting the economy and society to the new challenges climate change

presents.

*****

In accordance with the seemingly limited international decisions taken concerning mitigation, the

fourth Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change has drawn up several scenarios in case that

climate changes are confirmed. In all scenarios, the northern situation of the Russian territory

entails that it will be more greatly affected than the more temperate parts of the globe, and

especially the Arctic regions. Russia nonetheless has a theoretically higher capacity for resilience

than other developed countries, and also stands to gain economic benefits from this change,

mainly in the agriculture and hydroelectricity sectors. It will nevertheless likely have to bear an

elevated cost for its lack of preparation for the impact of climate change, calculated in terms of

urban development, human health, and migration. This cost will be added to other evolutions that

Russia will also have to manage in the decades to comes, in terms of demography, knowledge

and competence-building, and the reorientation of its overall economic structure.

Key Findings and Pathways to the Future

Though a general consensus on global climate change exists, the role of anthropogenic factors is

still largely debated, as are strategies of mitigation. Such strategies have an enormous cost on the

economy for an effect that has yet to be demonstrated or will possibly only be minimal.

The historical tradition of the Soviet school of thinking on climate does not compel Russian

scientists to give an alarmist reading of changes in climate. They criticize the current ―politically

correct‖ mood on this issue in Europe, and uphold a viewpoint that is more qualified and

contradictory, with similarities to that found in the United States.

To safeguard its economic interests, Russia tends to emphasize the unknowns by favoring a

minimal, and rather skeptical, reading of climate change, and by promoting strategies of

adaptation and not of mitigation.

Russia will not commit itself to binding agreements if it considers that it will come out of them

worse off relative to the American, Chinese, or Indian economies.

Russia is the only developed country that is expected to derive economic advantages from

climate change. It is thus hedging its bets on the future: on becoming self-sufficient in food

thanks to climate change, as well as on building a unique system of hydroelectric power that

could potentially be used as leverage over its Asian and European neighbors.

However, 1) the negative aspects of climate change, especially its economic costs, are often

passed over in silence and not taken into account in Russian calculations; and 2) the hopes of

46

benefitting from climate change thwart the capacity of the Russian state to implement efficient

strategies of adaptation.

The cost of expected climate change in Russia has to be calculated not only for itself, but above

all in its interaction with the other challenges that the country will have to contend with in the

decades to come, including its loss of human capital and its lack of competitiveness.

47

3. ARCTIC AS A NARRATIVE COMPONENT OF THE NATIONHOOD

Geography is a key, and long-term, element of state identity. It shapes geopolitical strategies and

perception of the world; it is used as a symbol of the nation, of its cartographical representation;

and more concretely, it has a major influence on the economic capacities of a country. In Russia,

the reference to space has always been part of identity narratives. Ever since the Church

Chronicles were written in the Middle Ages, the geographical position of Muscovy, situated at

the junction between Europe and Asia and to the north of Byzantium, has been presented as a

driver of its history. In the eighteenth century, the major historians of the Russian empire, such

as Nikolai Karamzin (1766-1826), insisted on the unique dimension of the Russian territory.

Such comments have been taken up and reformulated in the nineteenth century, in endless

variations, by the Slavophiles and their descendents, for whom the psychological traits of the

Russian people and the imperial nature of Russia owe much to geography. In Soviet times, the

accent was put on Russia‘s feats in exploiting the soil and on its territorial diversity, which made

it possible to present the homeland of socialism as humanity in miniature, including almost all

the various climate-types and landscapes of the earth.1

The Soviet Union‘s collapse accentuated the intrinsic relation between nationhood and territory.

Although Russia remains the largest country in the world, with close to one-sixth of the globe‘s

land under its control, the feeling of territorial hypotrophy dominates current self-

representations. The splitting up of the Soviet Union deprived the Russians of rich southern

lands, mainly those in Ukraine and Kazakhstan, of access to ports in temperate seas like the

Caspian and Black seas, and has pushed back the western borders of the country to the east,

while at the same time, the population is abandoning parts of Siberia and the Far East to return to

the country‘s European regions.2 In such a context, a focus on the Arctic had suddenly reopened

a national mental atlas of forgotten or marginalized spaces. Whereas Russia was withdrawing

into itself territorially for the first time in a millennium, the Arctic seems to revive an expansive,

and no longer retractive, vision of the country; a potential new space is opening up to it. The

dream of transforming the territorial immensities of North Asia, the main Siberian landmass, into

an economic, political, and cultural asset is a driver of Russian interest in the Arctic.

Vladimir Putin has not concealed the direct link he sees between the revival of Russian great

power and geography: ―When we say great, a great country, a great state — certainly, size

matters. (…) When there is no size, there is no influence, no meaning.‖3 The link between size

and meaning is revealing of the messianic paradigms still present in the political rhetoric of

contemporary Russia. However, much more pragmatic dynamics are also at work, such as the

reflection vis-à-vis other Arctic powers, nation-branding, and evolving social mobilization

patterns inside of Russia.

3.1. An Old Anchored Pattern: The Stalinist “Red Arctic”

The Arctic is fully part of Russian history, but was only conceived as a specific zone requiring

systematic exploration relatively recently. From the medieval republic of Novgorod, Russian

merchants went deep into Karelia, toward the White Sea, and the Urals on the search for fur to

sell to Hanseatic traders. Since the taking of Kazan and Astrakhan by Ivan the Terrible,

respectively in 1552 and 1556, Moscow has sought to ―reunify‖ Russian lands through its

48

endeavor to conquer the ancient territory of the Golden Horde. The Urals were crossed in 1581,

Yenissei in 1628, the Pacific Ocean was reached in 1680, and Alaska fell under Russian

authority in 1741.4 The Arctic territories under Russian control are therefore integrated, in the

Russian imagination, in the epic of Siberian conquest. This multidirectional advance, to the

north, the east, and the south, was not actually driven by the Russian state itself, but by groups of

influence: the Arkhangelsk region was conquered by merchants who were after fur; Siberia by

the Cossacks and the great merchant families; and Alaska was run by the Russian-American

Company.

However in the eighteenth century, Peter the Great, impassioned by the great discoveries that

European navigation enable, financed maritime expeditions to the Kamchatka Peninsula. In

1749, at the end of the Great Northern Expedition, Danish Captain Vitus Bering (1681-1741)

confirmed to the descendents of Peter that it is indeed possible to reach the American continent

via the Arctic seas along the Siberian coast.5 St. Petersburg‘s interest in the Arctic, however,

went up and down, and often disappeared in the face of more pressing stakes in the European and

Central Asian regions of the empire. In the second half of the nineteenth century, as Europe was

exulting the discovery of the two poles, north and south, Russia was not part of this great race of

scientific and popular culture. It was interesting to local groups of amateurs, but the Russian state

did not attempt to integrate its own Arctic territory into this pan-European phenomenon.6

All this changed in the Soviet period. From the start of the 1920s, the Bolshevik elites developed

an interest in the High North, endowed the indigenous populations with cultural and linguistic

rights, tried to cement their threatened sovereignty in the Far East, and sought to develop the

Northern Sea Route. The first expeditions took place thanks to the Committee of the Northern

Sea Route, the Komseveroput. However the first five-year plan, which was launched in 1928 and

signaled the entry of Stalin‘s Soviet Union into a period of forced and massive collectivization,

indicated a change of interest of the Russian state for the Arctic.

The idea that the Arctic is a specific region, to be run by a sole organ gathering together all

powers in order to exploit it in conformity with Stalinist standards, gave rise to Glavsevmorput,

which John McCannon has very rightly presented as ―one of the Soviet Union‘s greatest

experiments in hypercentralization‖.7 The Glavsevmorput, a sort of state within the state,

controlled a territory of two million square kilometers, employed as many as 100,000 persons,8

and was responsible for Arctic research, shipping, mineral production, shipyards, aviation,

agricultural development, and population management, Russian as well as indigenous. The

experiment, however, did not last long. In 1938, Glavsevmorput was dismantled and some of its

assignments were transferred to the Dalstroi, the Main Administration for the Construction in the

Far North, which was responsible for the penitentiary industry of the Gulag. After de-

Stalinization, the management of the High North was decentralized, each ministry given a share

of the portfolios, and the Northern Sea Route was more modestly turned into a section of the

Ministry of the Marine Fleet.

The years of High Stalinism did not only play a key role in the exploitation of Russian Arctic

regions. They gave rise to a central myth of Soviet popular culture, that of the Red Arctic, itself

made possible by the systematic character of 1930s scientific exploration. Thus, in 1932, the

international polar year, the Soviet icebreaker Sibiriakov became the first vessel to cross the

49

Northern Sea Route in a single summer, transforming its captain, Otto Schmidt, into a Soviet

hero. He was subsequently put in charge of all the major Arctic exploration projects. A Soviet

flag was planted on Victoria Island for the occasion. In 1934 Soviet polar aviators rescued

passengers from the Cheliushkin as it sank in the Chukchi Sea. Between 1934 and 1937, Soviet

Arctic flights multiplied and became part of the legend of world aviation. In 1937, Soviet planes

captured the world record for long-distance aviation by crossing the North Pole from Moscow to

the United States. In the same year, the Soviet Union became the first nation to land aircraft at

the North Pole through the Papanin expedition, and therefore the first to establish a scientific

outpost there.

Exulted through newspapers, novels, films, and radio broadcasts, this epic of the Red Arctic

deeply marked Russian culture, both the elites and broader society. The Arctic came to be

presented as the forepost of Soviet civilization, an authentic tabula rasa on which to build

socialism. It made it possible to celebrate the Stalinist values of patriotism, heroism, human, and

technological prowess, and to underscore the extraordinary industrial capacities of socialism, as

it conquered some of the most extreme natural elements.9 The myth then fell into discreet

oblivion—neither rejected, nor exalted—and was only revived on specific occasions, such as the

construction of the Baikal-Amur Magistral (BAM) railway in the 1970s.

3.2. A Flagship for the new Russian Statehood

As the Putin regime sought to establish itself at the beginning of the 2000s, it found in the

memory of the Red Arctic elements that appeal to some sections of Russian society and that fit

well with the rehabilitation of a specific Soviet vision. During Vladimir Putin‘s two mandates

(2000-2008), the Kremlin institutionalized patriotism as the new ideological matrix of the

presidential party, United Russia.10

State patriotic education programs and the return of large

historical commemorations have worked to cultivate a sense of national pride, and the idea of the

revival of the Russian derzhava (great power) has been presented as a unifying political program.

In an address to the Federal Assembly in April 2005, Putin made his own vision of the past

particularly clear by recognizing that ―the collapse of the Soviet Union was the greatest

geopolitical catastrophe of the century.‖11

The making official of this widely held view, of which

more than three-quarters of Russians approve and that was long regarded as politically incorrect

during Yeltsin‘s decade in power, closed a cycle of reintroducing former Czarist and Soviet

symbols. While the desire to regain the geopolitical power lost in 1991 is obvious, Soviet

symbols have not been restored for their ideological value—communism itself has not been

rehabilitated—but because they are part of a cultural background common to a large part of the

population and are seen as an indication of normalcy. The Soviet Union indeed enjoys a positive

image in Russian public opinion.12

This nostalgia for the Soviet Union goes hand-in-hand with

the Kremlin‘s will to make dynamic key sectors of former Soviet industry: the military complex,

and the aviation and maritime industries—all symbols par excellence of great power status—

revived the industrial myths of the preceding regime.

While Putin likes to be photographed as a sportsman and a military man, rather unsubtly

associating patriotism with virility and masculinity, Dmitry Medvedev, for his part, plays the

card of economic ―modernization‖, underscoring the importance of information technologies,

50

innovation, nanotechnologies, etc.13

The two competing paradigms—that of triumphant military

industries and that of new technologies—both accord very well with the Arctic theme. The

conquest of the Arctic means that atomic icebreakers, submarines, and strategic bombers, as well

as new technologies (satellites in polar exploration) can be promoted, as can the idea that science

is not opposed to nature, but can be put in its service. Both the Putin and Medvedev narratives

each get their share in terms of symbols. The Arctic functions as a tabula rasa for the projections

of various visions.

Transforming the Arctic into a flagship for nationhood crystallized as a Kremlin strategy in the

second half of the 2000s, in harmony with the growing international debates surrounding this

issue. The choice at the time was made to favor a bellicose discourse in which the Arctic was

presented as the future site of a new cold war. This strategy was, and is still, embodied in the

president‘s special representative for cooperation in the Arctic and Antarctic, the famous polar

explorer, Arthur Shilingarov, a member of United Russia and close associate of Putin. During the

Polar Year in 2007, he led the highly publicized Russian expedition to the North Pole. The

nuclear icebreaker Rossiia, and research ship Akademik Fedorov reached the North Pole, where

two deep-water submersibles, Mir-1 and Mir-2, were launched to plant a Russian flag on the

seabed of the Arctic, at a depth of about 4,300 meters.

Shilingarov does not have a reputation for being subtle, and already attracted attention to himself

in early 2007 for his helicopter flight to the South Pole and the Amundsen-Scott station in the

company of Nikolai Patrushev, director of the FSB. During the Russian expedition to the North

Pole, Shilingarov stated that ―we have exercised the maritime right of the first night,‖14

while in

2009, he again said, bluntly, that ―we will not give the Arctic to anyone.‖15

Although his remarks

do not correspond with the position of the Russian state, whose claims strictly respect the norms

of international law, they have never been rejected by the Kremlin. The latter delights in playing

hot and cold on the question, and prefers to keep this hard-line stance on-hand, in particular in

the domestic arena.

Presenting the Arctic as a new race among great powers makes it possible to portray Russia as a

besieged fortress, caught in a vise-like grip by the advance of NATO, which therefore facilitates

the revival of clichés dating from the Cold War. The comments of Russian officials on the Arctic

are stamped by old patterns of resentment: in 2009 the FSB director Nikolai Patrushev stated that

―The United States, Norway, Denmark, and Canada are conducting a united and coordinated

policy of barring Russia from the riches of the shelf. It is quite obvious that much of this doesn‘t

coincide with economic, geopolitical, and defense interests of Russia, and constitutes a systemic

threat to its national security. (….) Further into the future it will be simply too late, they will

drive us away from here.‖16

The idea that there is an ―united and coordinated‖ alliance of Arctic

coastal states against Russia is part of a conspiracy narrative that is widespread in Russia.17

In

2010, Dmitry Medvedev himself mentioned, without qualifying what he had in mind, that

―Regrettably, we have seen attempts to limit Russia‘s access to the exploration and development

of the Arctic mineral resources. (…) That is absolutely inadmissible from the legal viewpoint

and unfair given our nation‘s geographical location and history‖.18

The dominant opinion among Russian specialists of the Arctic, in particular among legal experts,

is that Russia lost or ceded much more territory than it had to. About 3.2 million square

51

kilometers of land surface in North America was sold for almost nothing in the nineteenth

century; immense territorial waters in the Bering Sea were given too easily to the United States

in 1990; as were territories in the Barents Sea to Norway in 2010. According to Alexander

Oreshenkov, ―the sphere of Russia‘s jurisdiction over the continental shelf within the limits of its

polar sector could be expanded by about 1.5 million square kilometers even without any request

if it used the norms of international law and national legislation more expediently.‖19

Other

researchers, such as G.K. Voitolovsky, a member of Scientific Advisory Council of the Maritime

Board under the Government, have asked that Russia withdraw its 2001 claims to the CLSL and

refuse any territorial restriction as long as the United States does not play by the same rules and

the coastal states have not settled their border disputes, so that an international Arctic zone does

not appear that would encroach on potential Russian territory.20

The will to turn the Arctic into a component of the patriotic narrative of the Russian state was

reinforced in 2009 by the political decision to revive the Russian Society of Geography, itself

born in 1845 as part of the imperial drive for geographical expansion and exploration of the

country‘s natural resources, and to turn it into one of the Kremlin‘s flagships. The minister of

emergency situations and a loyal follower of Putin, Sergei Shoigu, was appointed its president,

while Putin assigned himself to the post of Council of Trustees chairman. The prime minister has

not concealed his desire to have the activities of the Society of Geography focused on the great

projects of the Russian state: ―The society can offer practical support to our plans to develop

Eastern Siberia and the Far East, Yamal and the north of Krasnoyarsk region, to participate

actively in further research projects in the Arctic and Antarctica, as well as environmental

support of the Olympic Games in Sochi.‖21

As it is directly connected to the Kremlin, the Society

of Geography benefits from privileged grants, even though it has few qualified researchers. Its

mission is not so much to engage in basic research as it is to perform applied research on projects

that have been decided upon by the political authorities. It also has become a media platform

aimed at Russian and international public opinion to promote knowledge of nature, a kind of

Russian version of the U.S. National Geographic Society.22

Despite this institutional enhancement via the Society of Geography, the Arctic remains a theme

that is little discussed in Russia. Between the Kremlin‘s media hype on the ―Arctic race‖ and the

articles of specialists published for confidential circulation in specialized academic journals,

cultivated public opinion does not have much to read. General yet serious articles are far and few

between, and the journal Russia in Global Affairs run by Fedor Lukyanov is practically the only

one that regularly discusses the issue‘s importance for Russia.23

The formation of public opinion

that is correctly informed and able to decide if it wants to engage in a financial, technological,

and human commitment to Arctic conquest has not yet taken shape. The Arctic continues

essentially to be a concern of the state and the ruling elites, and much less one of Russian

society. However, there are some niches in which Arctic focuses and narratives have indeed

taken form.

3.3. Nationalist Fiction and Projection on the Arctic

Within many Russian nationalist movements, the Arctic has long been a structuring theme. Some

see it above all as a key element in the revival of Russia‘s great power status and are therefore

focused on geopolitical competition with the West, and in particular the United States. There are

52

a lot of press and internet articles on the ―new cold war/war of cold.‖ Popularizations such as that

by Artur Indzhiev, The Arctic Battle: Will the North be Russian?, which was published in one of

the major Moscow nationalist collections, announce sort of third world war in which a weakened

Russia will have to prove its heroism in order to safeguard its rights in the Arctic against

aggressive Western powers.24

Others put forward a more spiritual view of the role of the High

North in the construction of Russian identity and the pursuit of its traditional messianism. In both

cases, the Arctic is presented as Russia‘s ―last chance,‖ and as a possible ―revenge on history.‖

The notion that Russian expansion into the Arctic could attenuate the consequences of territorial

losses in Europe has become a recurrent theme: the Arctic is presented as rightful compensation

for the hegemony lost with the collapse of the Soviet Union.

Among the most visible essayists of the Russian scene, the geopolitician Alexander Dugin has

been one of the most virulent in his defense of a Russian Arctic. His explosive formula,

according to which ―[t]he purpose of our being lies in the expansion of our space. The shelf

belongs to us. Polar bears live there, Russian polar bears. And penguins live there, Russian

penguins,‖25

was cited by Der Spiegel, and became famous in the West both for its radical nature

as well as for its blunder (there are no penguins in the Arctic). Alexander Dugin defines Russia

as the main Eurasian power, as having an autarkic destiny, and as a point of linkage between

East and West, whose mission is to develop the meaning a new political and spiritual continent,

namely the Arctic, which he called Arctogeia. But he does not stop at promoting geopolitical

theories on the High North, and also provides a specific ethnic and religious reading of it. For

this, he bases himself on Aryan references inspired by the European New Right, on Nazi theories

of the hyperborean continent as the birthplace of the Aryans of whom the Russians are the purest

descendents, and on the esoteric theories of René Guénon, some elements of which are devoted

to the Arctogeia.26

Eurasian Youth Economic Forum, 2011

The Eurasianist youth movements that lay claim to Dugin‘s thinking have organized several

demonstrations in support of Russian territorial claims in the Arctic, calling for the Arctic

continental shelf to be integrated within the borders of the Russian state and to be transformed

into a new federal district.27

The movement‘s leader, Alexander Bobdunov, has claimed that ―the

north is not only a base of economic resources, our future in the material sense, but also a

53

territory of the spirit, of heroism, and of surpassing, a symbolic resource of central importance

for the future of our country.‖28

The Arctic theme has not left the communist movements indifferent either, and notably not their

main theoretician, Alexander Prokhanov, the chief editor of the weekly newspaper Zavtra. One

of the pillars of Russian nationalism of Soviet sensibility since the early 1990s, he has access to

some military circles, and to Gennadi Ziuganov‘s Communist Party. In his texts on the Arctic,

Prokhanov combines pragmatic arguments with revivalist theories on the Russian nation. He thus

correctly remarks that ―for more than fifteen years immense spaces have been excised from

Russia to the south. The Russian people have become more and more northern. The Ukrainian

black lands have been taken away, as has access to the seas of the south, and Belorussia‖.29

But

Prokhanov also sees in what he calls ―the Russian march toward the north‖30

a renewal of

Russian messianism. Not without humor, he mentions Gazprom as ―the corporation of all the

Russias‖ (on the model of the ―Church of all the Russias‖) and notes that the Arctic is likely to

become the source of Russian power, since ―the Arctic civilization requires an incredible

concentration of force in all domains. It will become, then, a sanctified ‗common good‘, in which

the peoples of Russia will rediscover their unity, conceived by God as those to whom he destines

great missions.‖31

The High North has also become a fashionable topic among nationalist-oriented public opinion

through a revival of interest in the history of Alaska. Since the 1990s, historical and fictional

publications around the Russian conquest of Alaska and its sale to the United States in 1867 have

multiplied. The idea of a former Russian Empire stretching from Finland to California fuels

nationalist resentment, focused as it is on the importance of geography in the assertion of great

Russian power. This makes it possible to cultivate conspiracy theories on the supposed will of

the West to break Russia up. In this way, many works lament the corruption of those Russian

elites who decided to sell California and then Alaska for financial gain, and place these historical

events in parallel with Russo-American negotiations for Chukchi and Bering Seas in 1990.32

These texts elevate the natural character of the Russian advance in Alaska as the logical follow-

on of that into Siberia, the spiritual understanding between Russians and the indigenous peoples,

and the key role of Orthodoxy in Alaska. These arguments are presented in counterpoint to

American history, which is stamped by the destruction of indigenous peoples.33

Regrets

concerning the sale of Alaska are not only expressed by so-called nationalist authors, but can

also be found among high ranking officials with links to Arctic questions.34

Lastly, the broad dissemination of Aryan and neo-Pagan themes in contemporary Russia is

helping to familiarize public opinion with a specific idea of the Arctic as a cradle. The Russian

version of the Aryan myth stems back to the nineteenth century,35

but was strengthened in its

neo-Pagan aspect during the interwar emigration through the debates on that false manuscript

The book of Vles (Vlesova kniga), presented by Russian and Ukrainian nationalists as an

undisputable historical source evidencing Slavic pre-Christian antiquity, but also as a book of

prayers and hymns to ancient gods to be put in practice. In the Soviet Union itself, the rebirth of

Russian nationalism, supported by Stalin from the second half of the 1930s onwards, has made

possible the consolidation of the neo-pagan narrative via research carried out on Slavic antiquity.

During the second half of the 1960s, a discreet attempt to rehabilitate the anti-Semitic

organization of the Black Hundreds was carried out by the organs of the state and the party. The

54

Central Committee of the Komsomol, the USSR Union of Writers, and the Russian Society of

Defense of the Monuments all took part in this fusion of Soviet ideology and Russian ethno-

nationalism. Vladimir Chivilikhin (1928-1984), the author of the famous novel Memory

(Pamiat‘), who won the USSR State Prize for it in 1982, explicitly proclaimed that Russians ―are

the ones, and not the Germans, who should be considered as Aryans.‖36

Since the 1990s, so-called New Age-inspired ―new religious movements‖ have been developing

in Russia. Among these the Rodnoverie, or ethnic faith movements, seek to restore the pre-

Christian and Aryan religion of the Slavs. The societal and political views espoused by their

adherents are extremely broad, ranging from extreme pacifism to militarism, from complete de-

politicization or semi-anarchism to far right groups defining themselves as National-Socialists.37

This Aryan pattern does not simply occupy a part of the religious spectrum, but also a sizeable

place in contemporary Russian publishing. Since the end of the Soviet Union, numerous meta-

historical publications have flooded the shelves of the bookshops. Such texts are far from being

marginal, as hundreds of thousands copies are published and thus represent the basis for a certain

kind of popular knowledge in ancient history. Because of the interest of the general public in

Slavic prehistory, Aryan doctrinarians have been able to penetrate historiography, books for

children, and textbooks. According to them, the Aryan homeland would have been in ancient

Atlantis, a bygone Nordic country whose descendents allegedly managed to migrate to Russia.

The Hyberborea, so sought-after by German Aryanists, is thus supposedly located in the Russian

north. 38

3.4. A growing “White Nationalism” in Russia

Another more prospective, but determining element also has to be taken into account: the

dramatic shifting perception of how Russians see their place in the world, their focus on new

threats, and the reorganization of identity criteria for their inclusion in the Western/European

world.39

In the context of massive historical changes, social traumas are liable to provoke a crisis of

political identity, which here manifests itself, among other aspects, in the rise of xenophobia.40

The majority of sociological studies conducted in Russia agree on the fact that about one quarter

of the population sees no danger in the country‘s multinational character or the arrival of new

migrants, whereas two-thirds are opposed to it.41

Since the beginning of the 1990s, anti-Chechen

sentiment was the prevailing factor of this xenophobia, but shortly thereafter it developed into a

―Caucasophobia,‖ and then began to affect all ―Muslims.‖ Xenophobia is therefore directed not

only at foreigners, in the legal sense of the term, but also at some of the country‘s national

minorities, especially North Caucasians.42

Since the second half of the 2000s, Central Asian

migrants (Uzbek, Tajik, and Kyrgyz) have topped the polls in terms of xenophobia, and the term

―Tajik‖ has come to define the migrant as such, without further national distinction. The slogan

―Russia for Russians‖ (Rossiia dlia russkikh), once used only by skinheads and the most radical

parties, has become widespread throughout society. In 2009, 18 percent of respondents thought it

was time to implement this idea ―fully,‖ and 36 percent hoped it would be practiced ―in

reasonable proportions.‖43

55

Fear of ―Southern‖ peoples has been exacerbated by the two wars in Chechnya, the

destabilization of the whole North Caucasus, the spread of terrorism in Russia, migratory flows

coming from Central Asia and the Caucasus, and the widespread cliché about the Chinese

―yellow peril‖ in Siberia and the Far East. To bolster this xenophobic logic and justify ethnic

violence, radical nationalist groups use the most persistent clichés. They claim that migrants take

advantage of the goodness of the Russian people, that they are responsible for the arrival in

Russia of the mafia, terrorism, and drug and arms trafficking, and also for the resurgence of

crime and rape, the decrease in purchasing power of citizens, the low quality of products,

adulterated vodka, etc. The vocabulary used by racist groups like skinheads leaves no room for

doubt as to how they interpret the migration phenomenon; the most salient terms are hordes,

flood, invasion, and occupation, and reference is made to the alleged ―silent war‖ being waged

against the Russian people.44

In Siberia and the Far East, the theme of invasion by numbers from

China is the most common argument used by radical groups, in tune with a part of the

population.45

Even the actions of United Russia‘s youth movement, the Youth Guard, as well as

those of other pro-presidential youth associations against illegal immigrants betrays the

Kremlin‘s attempt at instrumentalizing the issue and the influence that xenophobic topics are

having on some of the elite‘s children.46

The ―southern threat‖ has hastened the identification of Russian public opinion with Europe or

the West. Upon the intellectual decline of Marxism, socioeconomic explanations lost their

legitimacy. Instead there is now a prevailing idea that the world can only be explained by

national identity, culture, and religion. The success of Samuel Huntington‘s Clash of

Civilizations in Russia consolidated the forceful post-Soviet return to a kind of cultural

geopolitics.47

In it religion creates the foundation of civilizations and contributes to their

immutable nature over time: not individuals or social groups, but civilizations are the true actors

of history.48

These civilizationist statements have now become the template for mainstream

ideology in Russia. Politicians increasingly discuss the existence of a ―Russian civilization"

(Russkaia or rossiiskaia tsivilizatsiia, depending on the author) or an ―Orthodox civilization‖

(pravoslavnaia tsivilizatsiia). The Orthodox Church plays a central role in the formulation of this

idea. The work of the Church‘s main ideologue, Patriarch Kirill, is testament to his subscription

to Samuel Huntington‘s analysis, that is, to a world that is divided into civilizations and defined

by religion.49

Within this realm of civilizationist thought, Russia is identified with the white world (belyi mir).

This term is increasingly used in the media during debates on migrants, identified as ―people of

color.‖ The French social riots of 2005, interpreted in Russia as a war waged by the ―Arabs‖

against the ―French,‖ triggered many polemics about the loss of Europe‘s white identity.50

Doctrinal founders of a ―white world theory‖ joined together and today work to promote their

Welstanschauung in the Russian public space and to revive what they call raciology.51

Under one

umbrella they group together different theories of a Northern/European/white race in order to

advance the idea that Russia was founded by Aryans and that the imperial structure of the

country constitutes the apogee of ―white‖ political thought. These racialists lead a small but

influential group, White World (belyi mir), host websites for white and Slavic audiences, and

participate in neo-Slavophile literary circles, particularly the International Fund for Slavic

Writing and Culture.52

56

Fears of immigration and of a clash of civilizations therefore enable Russia‘s confrontation with

the West to be put in a different light. As a struggle that is internal to the ―white world‖ only, it is

necessary to bracket it whenever a greater danger threatens from the outside. Even if resentment

toward the West continues to be a driving force of identity narrative in Russia, the sentiment of

belonging to an endangered white world, which includes Western Europe and the United States,

paints the picture of a white/European Russia allied with the West in a huge ―war of

civilizations.‖ The likely continuation of xenophobia in Russia and the growing place granted to

migration questions in public debates will contribute to reinforcing a spatial representation of

Russia in which the ―south‖ is the region from where all threats come, while the ―north‖ where

the Russian people will be able to preserve itself. The Arctic can thus help to compensate for the

North Caucasus. This identity background is still only vaguely defined but is distinctly beginning

to take form and may well play a determining role in the way in which Russian public opinion

apprehends the cost of Arctic ―conquest.‖

3.5. A Communication Tool: Structuring an Arctic Brand for Russia

Identity is not a given, but a situational construct. In Russia, the elites have always been very

sensitive to the image that their country has abroad. This pattern was already quite present in the

thinking of the Slavophiles in the 1830s. It was marked by resentment towards Europe, with

which they identified, but that seemed to hold them in contempt. The Soviet period provoked as

much enthusiasm as criticism from the European elites, depending upon their reading of

communism. During the years of perestroika, the idea that ―moving back into the European

house‖ was the natural destiny of Russia dominated among those West-oriented parts of the

Russian elite. However as early as 1992-1993, broad popular support for a twofold

Westernization—the introduction of the market economy and the establishment of a

parliamentary system—fell sharply away. Social difficulties and a huge feeling of humiliation

contributed to shattering the pro-Western consensus. During Putin‘s two mandates, Russian

leaders have openly made known their disillusionment and frustration with their European and

American partners, and wanted Russia to be counted as a great power, with no obligation to limit

its own interests in the name of any solidarity with the West.

Since 2007, the question of nation-branding has grown in scale in Russia. The generalized

feeling that formerly the Soviet Union, and now Russia, has systematically lost the information

war and has been unable to succeed in its ―conquest for hearts and minds‖ has led to the

consideration of new mechanisms of influence and soft power, which the country has not

mastered since the great era of Soviet propaganda. The idea that the West‘s appeal is in decline

throughout the world, and that the global competition between world powers has acquired a

―civilizational dimension,‖ as it is expressed in the Foreign Policy Concept of 2008,53

have

structured logics of promoting Russia abroad. This can be seen with Russia Today, the English-

language TV channel, the Paris and New York based Institute for Democracy and Cooperation,

and the Russkii Mir foundation headed by Kremlin-connected Viacheslav Nikonov, which

promotes Russian language and culture beyond Russia‘s borders and tries to associate the

Russian-speaking diaspora with the ―revival‖ of the state.54

This idea of Russia as a brand that

can be capitalized on abroad among countries and peoples that are critical of ―American

domination‖ is particularly present among the pro-presidential youth movements. One of Nashi‘s

affiliates, Stal‘ (Steel), has for instance made its main objective to ―develop pro-Russian

57

networks abroad, with the goal of creating a positive image of Russia, and this will give us a

strategic superiority. We will change the world, turning ignorance and incomprehension of

Russia into respect and even into a fashion for it‖.55

In this context, the Arctic presents itself as an opportunity not to be passed up. The media focus

is considerable and the visibility international, involving countries from the West as well as

rising powers, first and foremost China and India, but also Latin America, the Middle East, and

Africa. The Arctic also makes it possible to modify Russia‘s image as a polluting industrial

power for which ecological issues are unimportant, and that has no definite public stance on

climate change. The Arctic offers unique possibilities to turn its competition with the United

States to its advantage, particularly given the latter‘s non-ratification of the Kyoto Protocol, A

polluting Russia is cast as a thing of the past, something that was part of the Soviet heritage,

whereas new Russia, the Russia of the future, wants to project itself as a clean power.

Thus, since 2008-2009, the Russian official narrative on the Arctic, once rather bellicose, has

evolved toward a celebration of the region as a space of international cooperation. Putin,

Medvedev, and the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Sergei Lavrov, have continuously strived to

cultivate a discourse pointing up a ―dialogue of cultures‖ in the Arctic. This can be explained by

the evolution of the international context (the Obama administration‘s ―reset policy‖ or

Medvedev‘s softer discourse as compared to Putin‘s), but also because the Kremlin has

understood the potential of the Arctic topic as a strategic communication tool. The international

forum ―The Arctic: Territory of Dialogue,‖ held in Moscow in September 2010, was an occasion

to play this card with success, in particular thanks to the esteemed international presence (Prince

Albert de Monaco and President of Iceland Ólafur Ragnar Grímsson).56

This media operation

will henceforth be repeated every year in the hope of promoting not an Arctic Race between

great powers, but a Polar Saga of humanity placed, among others, under Russian leadership.

Putin thus announced the creation of a ―Russian Arctic‖ national park to develop ecological

tourism in the High North.57

While the exultation of Russia‘s supposed specific destiny in the Arctic continues to be very

present in domestic public space, on the international front the emphasis is put on cooperation.

As such, Moscow is very invested in the Arctic Council and the Barents Euro-Arctic Council,

even though traditionally it has been disdainful of multilateral instances with uniquely

consultative functions.58

Russia plays a particularly constructive role in the discussions on joint

research and sea rescue systems. In the framework of international debates related to the

delimitation of the continental shelf, Russian scientists have shared the charts, maps, and data

used in their 2001 submission to the UN Commission on the Limits of the Continental Shelf and

have declassified some materials collected by the Armed Forces. Despite state competition,

Russian and Canadian scientists are exchanging information on the Lomonosov Ridge. In 2007,

Canadian, Danish, and Russian officials, all of them representatives of their respective ministries

or departments of natural resources, discussed the possibility of collaboration in the Arctic.59

Russia adopts a stance on the Arctic in accordance with the image that is sent back to it of itself

by other countries. The gamut of positions is therefore very wide, ranging from reciprocally

bellicose exchanges with Canada, to competition/collaboration with the United States for the title

58

of Arctic knowledge power and to the multitude of pragmatic local forms of cooperation that it

has put into place with European countries.

The Canada-Russia relationship has become focused on the Arctic question over recent years. In

the 1990s and early 2000s, Ottawa took upon itself to integrate Russia more firmly into the

concert of Arctic nations that work on environmental issues and the participation of indigenous

people. In 2007, however, Canadian politicians took literally the planting of the Russian flag on

the Arctic seabed and the provocative declarations of Artur Shilingarov. Canadian Foreign

Affairs Minister Peter MacKay stated that humanity was no longer living in the Middle Ages and

that it was not sufficient to plant a flag to lay claim to the possession of a territory, while Prime

Minister Stephen Harper declared in Nunavut that ―Canada's new government understands that

the first principle of Arctic sovereignty is: use it or lose it.‖60

In the press, the discourses on

Russia‘s warmongering have multiplied, in particular during flights of Russian bomber planes

above the Arctic, regardless of the fact that they do not violate Canadian airspace. The legal

debates concerning the belonging of the Lomonosov and Mendeleev Ridges to the North

American or the Eurasian continent have sharpened this conflictual reading of things, and the

Nanook military exercises in the Canadian High North have been revived at a steady rate.

The Arctic has therefore suddenly become a flagship of the nationhood of Canada, leading to a

radicalization around the question of the Northwest Passage. In 2009, the decision—approved

almost unanimously by the House of Commons in spite of protests from Inuit communities—to

change the name of the Northwest Passage to the ―Canadian Northwest Passage‖ confirmed state

susceptibility in respect of territorial sovereignty in the Arctic.61

The narrative on the Arctic as

the last frontier for Canada has not gone unnoticed in Russia, most of whose self-assertive

discourses target Ottawa, whether by name or not.62

This deterioration of relations in the name of

nation-making symbols is especially harmful as the two countries have never had strong

geopolitical antagonisms, as Canada is seeking to assert itself on the international scene

independently of the United States,63

and as both Russia and Canada have a shared reading of the

question of the Northwest and Northeast Passages.

Russia‘s relationship with the United States is just as complex. The old antagonisms of the Cold

War have not yet left the collective mind, and other key conflicting elements can be added to

this. The non-resolution, on the Russian side, of the question of the Chukchi and Bering Seas

keeps alive the idea of tensions with Washington and fuels the memory of the humiliation of

perestroika. The non-ratification of UNCLOS by the world‘s foremost maritime power confirms

in Russians their idea of the United States as a unilateral power that refuses to apply any binding

agreements to itself, but is bent on applying them to the rest of the world.64

Moreover, the

Russian elites consider that the refusal of Western capitals and of NATO to discuss openly

questions of Arctic security, soft and hard, opens the door to a strategic uncertainty that obliges

Moscow to react in a defensive way. The very few bilateral activities, such as Russia-U.S.

cultural exchanges in Alaska and Far East, also weakens the idea of cooperating with

Washington on the Arctic issue, despite common projects such as the Joint Russian-American

Long-term Census of the Arctic (RUSALCA).65

However, the United States cultivates its image

as a knowledge power on the Arctic, a title that Russia also seeks. More than a competition, the

fields of cooperation in this domain are multiple, as Moscow is waiting for the United States‘

recognition of its academic and applied knowledge on the High North.

59

With Europe, and more precisely with the Nordic countries, Russia has managed to construct a

privileged, pragmatic relationship. The North Sea-Baltic Sea zone was an area of considerable

tension during the Cold War, since the two blocks here came up alongside one another. Since the

1990s, the Scandinavian countries have not manifested themselves as the most pro-Russian

countries of European space for historical,66

political (criticisms of the authoritarian regime of

Vladimir Putin), and geopolitical reasons (debate around the Nord Stream in Sweden, etc.).

Despite this liability, Norway, Finland, and Sweden have all succeeded in developing multiple

bilateral and multilateral cooperation projects with Russia, as much at the state level as between

border regions. This is so despite some clashes of perceptions.67

The cross-border flows with

Norway and Finland have rapidly grown and have altered the daily relations between individuals.

The projects of cultural exchange, the Arctic universities that host students from the entire area,

and regional collaborations in the environmental, shipping, and fishing domains have become

legion.

For Russia, the Nordic dimension constitutes an increasingly important element of its

relationship with Europe, since the Scandinavian countries have become familiar and predictable

neighbors. For the EU, the stakes are crucial, since Brussels needs to find room for cooperation

with Moscow in order to resolve the still numerous areas of tension and to promote pragmatic

cooperation between European states and Russia. Numerous changes are therefore currently in

the process of reshaping Europe-Russia relations in line with a more Arctic/Baltic focus, which

will require reformulating the transatlantic commitment.

****

In only a few years, the Arctic has become a component both of Kremlin-led patriotic rhetoric

aimed at domestic public opinion and of Russia‘s international brand. The Arctic indeed enables

both an updating of old ―Red Arctic‖ aggressive and industrializing clichés, and a way to

embody the new Russian soft power. On the domestic scene, the topic of the Arctic is at the same

time very present, insofar as it is wielded by the authorities and their subservient media and

defended by the nationalist milieus, from the Eurasianists to the neo-Pagans, as the last great

battle of the Russian people for their very survival. But it is largely absent from public debates

and everyday preoccupations. On the international scene, Moscow can present itself in

conformity with Western public opinion by showing its interest for polar expeditions and

environmental issues, its promotion of indigenous rights, and its support to multilateralism, and

sustainability.

The international position of Russia in the Arctic is therefore multiform, in accordance with the

image that each country reflects: Russian bellicism against Canadian self-assertiveness,

hesitations toward the American ally/rival, and constructive neighborhood partnerships with

European countries. This multiplicity confirms that the Russian elites do not have any precise

agenda to defend in the Arctic, barring that of being recognized as a key participant in the

debate. If the symbols of its non-marginalization are respected, then Russia privileges a

cooperative, rather than a competitive, framework with the other Arctic states, as it is less costly

and Moscow stands to gain some advantage from it. The Arctic therefore occupies a complex

position in Russian nationhood/statehood, both overestimated and under-discussed. It is a way of

60

affirming, paradoxically, both the idea of Russia in its unique specificity, and its desire to have

itself viewed as a ―normal‖ country by the international community. This is therefore a

recurrence of Russia‘s ancient ideological ambition to be the other Europe,68

however, its

identity evolution also involves a xenophobic pattern that anchors Russia increasingly in

Europe/the West.

Key Findings and Pathways to the Future

The Kremlin-led nationalist rhetoric on the Arctic is mainly for domestic audiences. It is part of

the symbolic arsenal used by the Putin regime to legitimate itself: references chosen from the

Stalinist myth of the Arctic—people‘s heroism and industrial prowess in hostile environments—

are still well-received among some parts of the Russian population. The Arctic is a virgin land on

which it is easy to project, albeit difficult to realize, dreams of great power.

On the international stage, Russia negotiates its viewpoint in accordance with the other actors. It

is rather threatening toward NATO, but distinctly more reconciling in the Arctic Council and the

Barents Euro-Arctic Council. It mirrors back the image that the others send of it: it is bellicose

with Canada, in competition with the United States, but celebrates cooperation and pragmatism

with Nordic European countries. It is thus necessary to strike a symbolic chord in order to

integrate Russia better into international debates on the Arctic, and in particular to bring into the

foreground its scientific competences.

The rise of Russian nationalism, specifically xenophobia directed at migrants, North-Caucasians,

and, in a general way, ―Muslims,‖ constitutes a long-term driver that will shape the future of the

stance taken in Russian public opinion on the Arctic. The theme of a White Russia, or of Russia

as a Nordic power, is bound to take on a greater magnitude in the decades to come. Russian

nationalism must therefore be a part of the strategic planning, as it may lead the decision-making

process to run counter to rational logic, especially if it is motivated by questions of pride and

symbols of nation-making.

61

4. THE RUSSIAN STANCE ON TERRITORIAL CONFLICTS IN THE ARCTIC

The Polar regions have often been considered as specific with regard to international law, and

multiple sets of regulations are applied to them, with important historical evolutions taking place

in conjunction with the gradual discoveries of the oceanic depths and their reserves.1 Expected

climate change has led the littoral states to focus on the stakes of delimitation and of sovereignty,

especially as the continental shelf occupies a much higher proportion of the Arctic Ocean than of

any other ocean. UNCLOS recognizes that each state has the right to 12 nautical miles of

territorial sea, 24 nautical miles of contiguous zone, and 200 nautical miles of exclusive

economic zone (EZZ). On territorial seas, sovereignty is exercised over the airspace, water

column, seabed, and the subsoil. Within the 200 nautical miles of EZZ, each state has sovereign

rights over all living and non-living resources in the water column, seabed, and subsoil, and the

passage of foreign ships must be guaranteed. Beyond these 200 nautical miles, state jurisdiction

can no longer be applied to the water columns, which are defined as high seas subject to free

circulation. It can, however, be applied to a continental shelf if a state has UNCLOS recognize a

territorial contiguity of up to 350 nautical miles or 100 nautical miles beyond the 2,500-meter

isobath. Beyond this, the deep seabed is regarded as the heritage of humanity and is managed by

the International Seabed Authority.2

As regards the Arctic, there are three categories of dispute: a first category involves disputes

about bilateral EEZs and continental shelves, a second the delimitation of continental shelves,

and a third deals with the straits. There have been eight disputes over bilateral EEZs and the

continental shelf in the region: one between the United States and Canada on the Beaufort Sea

(problem of the delimitation of hydrocarbons-rich waters lying between the Yukon and Alaska);

another between Canada and Denmark/Greenland about the Davis Strait (issue settled in 1973

despite continuing disagreement over Hans Island); a third disagreement existed between

Denmark/Greenland and Iceland over the Fram Strait (settled in 1997); and another between

Denmark/Greenland and Norway over Svalbard (settled in 2006). A fifth disagreement existed

between Iceland and Norway over Jan Mayen (settled in 1993-1995); and one between

Denmark/Greenland and Norway about Jan Mayen (settled in 1981). The Soviet Union/Russia

was involved in two disputes: one with the United States over the Bering Sea; and another with

Norway over the Barents Sea and Svalbard. The disputes over the straigts bear on the Northwest

Passage and the Northeast Passage. Canada and Russia consider them territorial waters, and

therefore claim the right to regulate vessels‘ traffic, while the other states, especially the United

States, consider them international waters.3

Although the growing economic interests of the Arctic encourage the littoral states to stake out

claims for sovereignty, all appeal to the unequivocal support for international law in the

resolution of remaining jurisdictional disputes. Given the length of its Arctic coastlines, Russia is

very active in both theoretical and practical debates on the status of the Arctic and the issue of

territorial delimitation. It is involved in all three categories of existing legal disputes concerning

bilateral exclusive economic zone and continental shelf disputes, the delimitation of the

continental shelf, and on vessel transit in the straits. On these issues, Moscow pursues proactive

policies, which is a sign of the importance that it assigns to the question, as Russian international

policies are traditionally quite reactive.

62

4.1. The Soviet Historical Referent: the 1926 Decree

The Russian legal tradition is characterized by the notion of sectoral line, that is, the line of

longitude that starts from the terminus of land boundary and intersects with the North Pole. The

division of the Arctic into national sectors began at the start of the twentieth century, when

Canada first, in 1909, proclaimed its sovereignty over the lands stretching between its territorial

border and the North Pole. Czarist Russia took up the Canadian criteria of sectoral division, a

decision that Soviet Russia pursued after the Revolution of 1917. On April 15, 1926, the Central

Executive Committee of the Soviet Union issued a Decree, On the Proclamation of Lands and

Islands Located in the Northern Arctic Ocean as Territory of the USSR. The decree stated that

―all lands and islands, both discovered and which may be discovered in the future, which do not

comprise at the time of publication of the present decree the territory of any foreign state

recognized by the Government of the Soviet Union, located in the northern Arctic Ocean, north

of the shores of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics up to the North Pole between the

meridian 32°04'35" E. long. from Greenwich, running along the eastern side of Vaida Bay

through the triangular marker on Cape Kekurskii, and the meridian 168°49' 30" W. long. from

Greenwich, bisecting the strait separating the Ratmanov and Kruzenstern Islands, of the

Diomede group in the Bering Sea, are proclaimed to be territory of the Soviet Union.‖4

The territory defined in the decree is based on the internationally validated limits of the time: to

the east, those between the United States and Russia defined in the 1867 Convention on Alaska;

and to the west, the border between the Soviet Union and Finland. Moscow lays claim to

sovereignty over all the territories between these two points along the meridian up to the North

Pole. At a time when Russia regarded itself as surrounded by capitalist enemies, a main

characteristic of which was their ―imperialism,‖ the objective of this decree was to prevent other

states from proclaiming their sovereign will over unknown territories. The law thus has a

prospective intention, namely to preserve the future of Soviet Arctic discoveries. Later, some

Soviet researchers extended the scope of the decree, for example, V.L. Lakhtin, who published a

monograph titled Prava na severnye polyarnye prostranstva (Rights on Northern Polar Spaces)

as early as 1928. In it, he advanced two new arguments: first, that all lands and islands,

regardless of who effectively occupied them, had to be under the sovereignty of the owner of a

sector in accordance not with the contiguity theory but with the principle of ―region of

attraction‖ (raion tiagoteniia); second, that fast ice should be equated to land territory, that is, be

included in the sovereign part of a sectoral state, as well as the air space above it.5

The 1926 decree was designed to regulate the questions of sovereignty on the Arctic Ocean and

was not supposed to serve as a general principle for the demarcation of maritime borders.

However, it was seen within Soviet legal practice as a historical precedent and therefore led

Moscow to propose a sectoral division of all maritime borders.6 The Soviet Union stuck to this

principle throughout its existence. Some Soviet geographical maps showed state borders going

along straight longitudinal lines from the Kola Peninsula and the Bering Straight towards the

pole, so that one-third of the Arctic Ocean was designated as territorial waters. Soviet works

remained divided in their interpretation of the decree‘s scope. Those that had a restricted reading

of it considered that only the islands of the sectoral zone make up part of the contiguity territorial

of the state, not the waters between the islands and the continent. Those that had a broader

interpretation of it claimed that the islands, the waters, and the air space must also fall under

63

national jurisdiction.7 In practice, Moscow did not uphold this broader interpretation of the 1926

decree and never perceived the border of the Arctic sector as its territorial border. During the

decades of the Cold War, these juridical ambiguities enhanced tensions with the United States,

which decided it could circulate freely on the oceans. U.S. submarines succeeded in reaching the

North Pole (in 1958, the Nautilusin was the first watercraft to reach the geographic North Pole),

in passing through Soviet-controlled Arctic waters and northern straits (the so-called USS

Blackfin), and even in entering Russian territorial waters (the USS Gudgeon in 1957 close to

Vladivostok).8

Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, the Russian legal position has softened. During its border

conflicts with Kazakhstan and Azerbaijan over the Caspian Sea, Moscow yielded without

demanding sectoral demarcation for the Caspian Sea, in large part because demarcation using the

principle of the median line provided it with zones that are rich in hydrocarbons. Russia also

realized that by referring to the sectoral line it was losing in terms of territories in the Bering Sea.

Moreover, this method of division has met with little international success. Denmark, Norway,

and the United States have all rejected it publicly, and the UNCLOS posits the median line as the

basic principle of division of marine territories.

4.2. Russian Claims on the Arctic Continental Shelf

Under the UNCLOS, a coastal state has exclusive sovereign rights to explore and exploit the

natural resources of its continental shelf up to 200 nautical miles from its shores. Beyond this

limit, it has to provide scientific evidence to establish the extent of the legally defined continental

shelf in order to exercise the same rights. These rights apply to the exploitation of living and

non-living resources of that state‘s share of the shelf‘s seabed and subsoil, but do not extend to

resources in the water column such as fish stocks, which are covered by a separate regime.

Thanks to the marine research that has been carried out systematically in the Arctic from the

1960s, in 2001 Russia became the first country to refer to the UN Commission on the Limits of

the Continental Shelf (CLCS), a review body of scientists created under the UNCLOS. In so

doing, it created a legal precedent, which other states hastened to follow.

After ratifying UNCLOS, each state has ten years to submit an application for the recognition of

its continental shelf, and then can hand in as many claims as it wishes once the first application

has been made. The Commission is made up of 21 members chosen for their expertise in

geology, geophysics, and hydrography, but they are also elected with due regard for geographic

representation, so having a member of one‘s nation elected can be a positive element for a state

that is submitting a claim. The commission‘s decisions require a two-thirds majority but rulings

cannot be given that disadvantage other states, even if the state in question has not submitted a

claim but deems it is potentially disadvantaged.9 This measure is designed to protect the weakest

countries that do not have the financial and technological means to submit a request. This rule,

called Rule 5, can be used to prevent the commission from giving a verdict that would be

binding. The commission is also unable to settle border disputes between states except if the

governments concerned ask for the arbitration of the commission. The legal wranglings are

therefore complex and nearly infinite.10

64

In addition, the definition of the continental shelf such as it is found in article 76 of UNCLOS is

made up of many technical and geological elements that scientists often judge incomplete or

contradictory. It leaves open some definitions that are likely to evolve in accord with

technological progress, even if a scientific and technical guideline is supposed to help interpret

the terms used. UNCLOS states that ―[t]he continental shelf of a coastal state comprises the sea-

bed and subsoil of the submarine areas that extend beyond its territorial sea throughout the

natural prolongation of its land territory to the outer edge of the continental margin.‖11

Several

criteria are thus to be taken into account: the thickness of sedimentary cover, a distance of 60

nautical miles from the foot of the continental slope, a distance of 350 nautical miles from the

country‘s baseline, and/or 100 nautical miles from its 2,500-meter isobath. In addition, claims

must first show that the prolongation requested does not concern an oceanic ridge, since this term

has a complex definition apt to be interpreted in multiple ways, but the differences between

oceanic ridges and natural components of the continental shelf are unclear.12

Maritime Boundaries and Claims in the Arctic

In its claim, Russia argues that the Lomonosov Ridge and the Alpha-Mendeleev Ridge are both

geological extensions of its continental Siberian shelf and thus that parts of the Central Arctic

Ocean, as well as parts of the Barents Sea, the Bering Sea, and the Sea of Okhotsk, fall under its

jurisdiction. Most of this area, amounting to about 1.2 million square kilometers of Arctic waters,

is situated in a triangle-shaped zone, ―the top of which is the North Pole, the eastern side is

approximately the meridian 170◦ W, the western side is an irregular line running southward from

the North Pole to the cross point with the EEZ outer limit (81◦ N, 120◦ E), and the base is the

outer limit of the Russian EEZ.‖13

The Lomonosov Ridge is a 60,000 kilometer-wide submerge

65

elevation joining the continental Eurasian and American platforms, while the Mendeleev Ridge

is a 1,500 kilometer-long elevation between Wrangel Island and the Canadian Arctic

archipelago. In 2002, the CLCS gave a recommendation about the additional data and

information it requested from Russia by 2009. With this in view, Moscow organized the much-

publicized 2007 Arctic expedition, during which the Russian flag was planted on the Arctic

seabed, an act devoid of any legal significance but that incited the anger of other states. Still the

information gathered for a renewed submission was not adequately detailed in its bathymetrical

analysis. Russia has therefore delayed its next submission to 2013, at least so that it can order

new scientific expeditions and collect the requested information.

A technical analysis of the Russian claims lies outside the scope of this chapter and can in any

case only be conducted obliquely, since all claims are subject to confidentiality. Only the

executive summaries have been made public, as have the appeals submitted by the other states,

which thus make it possible, through the responses they provide, to surmise the exact nature of

the claims and the arguments put forward.14

Since Moscow‘s initial submission, Canada,

Denmark, Japan, Norway, and the United States have filed their responses to the executive

summary of the Russian claims. Norway has issued official documents indicating that the

Russian request infringes upon its own claims. As the commission cannot give rulings that

disadvantage another state, it cannot give a verdict inasmuch as the claims of the other states

remained unexamined. Thus, after Norway deposited a request for recognition of its continental

shelf in 2006, including an express reservation of the right to claim additional territory, it came

to light that both Moscow and Oslo claimed the two zones, the Loop Hole and the Western

Nansen Basin. In the absence of any territorial delimitation treaty between both states until

spring 2010, the commission was unable to give rulings in favor of either one or the other and

both states invoked the Rule 5 protection against any prejudicial decisions. In 2008, the

commission endorsed Norway‘s description of the seabed outside of its established border, thus

allowing the country to widen its economic zone in the Arctic by 235,000 square kilometers, but

without giving a ruling on the two zones under dispute.15

Canada and Denmark stressed that the oceanographic data contained in the Russian executive

summary was insufficient to determine their stance on Moscow‘s position. Nonetheless, the

Canadian and Danish governments have been working together since 2005 to submit their

claims.16

In 2006, both countries, considering that the stakes were of such importance, put their

dispute over Hans Island aside, and undertook a dual scientific expedition known as the

Continental Shelf Project to collect the bathymetric, seismic, and gravity data of the Lomonosov

Ridge and to establish claims to territorial expansion.17

They are collecting data on the seabed

north of Greenland and Ellesmere Island, and are organizing the Lomonosov Ridge Test of

Appurtenance (LORITA) Project in order to prove that the ridge, which passes through

Greenland to Canada‘s Ellesmere Island, is a natural extension of the North American

continent.18

Canada and Denmark have until 2013 and 2014 respectively to submit their claims.

The United States, although it has not ratified UNCLOS, has also submitted a document

contesting Russian claims on a scientific level, with detailed references to the technical aspects

of the Russian submission. The U.S. document claims that the Russian text does not propose

objective data sources concerning the location of the 2,500-meter isobath and the foot of the

continental slope. The main scientific argument put forward by Washington seems to be that the

66

Alpha-Mendeleev Ridge System is a geologic feature formed by volcanism (a submerged ―hot

spot‖), and therefore cannot be considered a natural prolongation of the continental shelf or

continental margin.19

Regarding the Lomonosov Ridge, Russia seems to have more leeway with

its potential claim for continental shelf expansion but needs to give sufficient arguments to prove

the relationship between the ridge and the Russian continental shelf, otherwise the commission

will define the ridge as an oceanic one. However, in 2002, State Department representatives

mentioned that the U.S. view of Arctic geology is evolving and in hindsight, their notification

reflected an inadequate appreciation of the scientific complexities involved.20

It is therefore

likely that legal disputes around Russian claims will continue to last for several more years.

4.3. The Russian-U.S. Agreement on the Bering and Chukchi Seas

In the 1970s, the United States proposed to the Soviet Union to begin negotiations about the

length of their common maritime border, the longest in the world, in order to settle their points of

disagreement: the EEZs of both countries intersected in the Bering Sea as well as in the Chukchi

Sea; part of the continental plateau as claimed by both superpowers; and part of the open sea was

yet to be delimited. A provisional application for a forthcoming agreement entered into force in

1977 so that daily issues could be regulated, in particular around fishing. The negotiations

resumed during perestroika. Long a zone of tensions during the Cold War, the Bering Sea was

indeed one of the first winners of Gorbachev‘s Murmansk Speech in October 1987. Both parties

signed a final agreement on July 1, 1990, resulting in the so-called Baker-Shevarnadze line,

which is a compromise between a median line and a sectoral line along the boundary of more

than 2,500 kilometers.21

The United States ratified the treaty in 1991 but, twenty years later,

Russia still has not done so.

Since the beginning of the 1990s the Duma has refused to ratify the treaty, arguing that it harmed

the interests of the Russian state in terms of fishing and potentially of oil reserves. Russian

politicians and lawyers are putting forward multiple arguments. In 1990, with the Soviet Union

right in the middle of perestroika, the decision-making system was complex. Nikolai Ryzhkov,

who at the time occupied the post of president of the Council of Ministers, declared that neither

the Politburo, nor the Council of Ministers were able to examine the text of the agreement before

its signature—but Foreign Affairs Minister Sergei Lavrov has stated the contrary and it seems

that the internal validation procedure in the Central Committee was well respected.22

Many have

also accused Eduard Shevarnadze of having ceded too easily to U.S. demands in order to obtain

Washington‘s support.23

Moscow hoped to sign a whole package of agreements with the United

States, including the withdrawal of missiles from Europe, and did not want to slow down the

process by bringing the case before the UN International Court of Justice in The Hague, which,

in addition, was still decried as a tool of capitalism. Moscow had also been in negotiations with

Norway and had hoped to tip the balance on the sectoral line in its favor provided only that it

came to an agreement with Washington.

In 1996, the Duma held new parliamentary readings on this subject, through it refrained from

making a decision. In 2002, the Russian Audit Chamber provided a detailed opinion on the state

of Russian fishing and concluded that because of this agreement, Moscow had lost between 1.6

and 1.9 million tons of fish in the 1990s.24

The reports the Duma requested conclude that, of its

own free will, the Soviet Union lost three areas of water from its EEZ, which it ceded to the

67

United States: one in the Bering Sea (23,000 square kilometers), one in the Chukchi Sea (7,700

square kilometers), and another in the Pacific Ocean (46,000 square kilometers). The Soviet fleet

caught as much as 150,000 tons of fish per year.25

In exchange, the Soviet Union was to have

guaranteed fish quotas for its fishermen (the invasion of Afghanistan and U.S. sanctions put an

end to them), a small part of the American EEZ in the western sector, and sovereignty over the

islands of Chukchi Sea, including Wrangel.26

In 2007, the director of the North American

Department within the Ministry of Foreign Affairs declared that the text of the agreement did not

harm the territorial interests of the Russian state, except in terms of fishing, and that negotiations

were taking place with the United States in order to compensate for Russian losses,27

but a

solution is yet to be found. In addition, it is likely that the zones ceded are rich in hydrocarbons,

especially the Navarinsk and Aleut fields, even if the absence of offshore wells and the lack of

seismic data mean that the hypotheses are unverifiable for the time being. According to data

gathered in 2006, the estimated total recoverable resources of the East Siberian and of the

Chukchi Seas is more than eight billion tons of oil equivalent.28

On the legal level, the Soviet-Russian position has been weakened by its inconsistency. As a

point of departure of the negotiations, the United States proposed to Moscow to take the same

line of demarcation as that mentioned in the 1867 Convention of cession of Alaska, which

determines a geographical line west of which all the territories are American, and to the east of

which all are Russian. This line was mentioned in the 1926 decree delimiting the Soviet Arctic

territories and corresponded more or less to the idea of a sectoral line as defended by Soviet

jurisprudence. However, the 1867 Agreement actually only applied to emerged territories, and

not to seas, and was not intended for the delimitation of the EEZ or continental shelf. The Soviet

Union could base itself on a legal precedent, since a decision made by a court of arbitration

confirmed that the convention of cession of Alaska did not concern seas. However, Moscow did

not object to the U.S. request.

As stated by the Soviet jurist Alexander Vylegzhanin, the line of division chosen therefore

brought under American jurisdiction about 70 percent of the disputed areas of the Bering Sea in

comparison with the most favorable differentiation along the line of equal distance.29

The

application of the median line principle could have provided the Soviet Union with an additional

area of 25,000 square kilometers Sea.30

Moreover, according to the U.S. statement on the

Russian claim to UN Commission on the Limits of the Continental Shelf, it appears that in its

submission, Russia refers to the 1990 agreement on the Bering Sea, which in this case means that

the country is now bound to the treaty even without having ratified it.31

Legally, Russia cannot undermine the 1990 agreement in a way that is in accordance with

international and national law, even if ratification is necessary for it to enter into force. It can at

best hope to negotiate some compensation to offset the losses incurred in fishing, to create new

bilateral mechanisms to open American fishing zones up to it, or even to promote a more open

status such as that of a natural park for the protection of biodiversity, and thus to settle the

problem in a friendly way. It seems that the resolution of the question is intrinsically linked to

the state of Russian-American relations in general. Washington, for its part, has to contend with

criticisms from the Alaskan state, which is a lot stricter in its negotiations with Moscow and

would like to block any decisions that are taken without its participation.

68

4.4. The Barents Sea issue and its 2010 solution

The territorial conflict over the Barents Sea was probably the most complex to settle. It was part

of a geopolitical context stamped by the Cold War (for many decades, Norway was the only

member of NATO, along with Turkey, to have common borders with the Soviet Union),

involved important economic questions (which, since the 1970s, have mainly related to fisheries

and now increasingly concern the exploitation of hydrocarbons), and has a symbolic weight in

terms of national sovereignty and nation-building for Norway and Russia.32

The sea border between Norway and the Soviet Union in the Varangerfjord area was agreed on

in a treaty signed in 1957, which was completed by a new one ratified in 2007 specifiying the

delimitation line for the territorial sea, the EEZ zone, and the continental shelf between Norway

and Russia further north outside the mouth of the Varangerfjord. Negotiations concerning the

delimitation of the other main maritime borders between the two countries began in 1974. In

1976-1977, both protagonists proclaimed their border in a unilateral manner. Norway based itself

on the principle of a median line between Svalbard, on the one hand, and Novaya Zemliya and

the Franz Josef Land Archipelago, on the other. The Soviet Union, although a signatory to the

UNCLOS, refused this principle on the basis of the ―special circumstances‖ clause provided by

Law of the Sea. According to Moscow, the 1926 decree amounts to a historic precedent that

makes provisions for a sectoral zone that starts out from Russian territory and proceeds in a

straight line as far as the North Pole. As a result, about 155,000 square kilometers came under

dispute, including the overlapping EEZs within this area. Added to this are the 20,000 square

kilometers of overlapping claims further north in the Arctic Ocean.33

Since 1980, when the

Soviet Union tried to undertake oil extraction, both Moscow and Oslo agreed on a moratorium

prohibiting oil and gas exploration, and geological prospecting in the disputed area, which meant

that fishing took center stage in the underlying economic debates on border division.34

Despite the impossibility of reaching a legal agreement, both countries quickly decided to

cooperate in terms of fishing. As early as 1978, an agreement concerning the so-called Grey

Zone was signed. The 65,000 square kilometers of Grey Zone includes the Loop Hole, a high

seas triangle bound by Russia‘s EEZ, the disputed waters between both countries, and the

Svalbard Fisheries Zone Protection, but also 23,000 square kilometers of Norway‘s EEZ and

3,000 square kilometers belonging to Russia. The Grey Zone agreement, extended on a yearly

basis, is a classic mechanism of enforcement and control in the management and conservation of

fish stocks in international or disputed waters.35

Through the 1990s and 2000s, regular tensions

between the two countries arose over the inspection and boarding of Russian fishing boats by the

Norwegian Navy. For ecological reasons, Oslo has implemented strict rules to regulate the

fishing industry and has fixed quotas of how many fish are permitted to be caught depending on

the species, which it considers to be its duty to apply in its EEZ. The question of nuclear waste

from Soviet nuclear plants on the Kola Peninsula and industrial pollutions, mainly from nickel,

in the Barents Sea is also a cause of disagreement. Oslo criticizes regularly the lack of

sustainable management of Moscow‘s maritime resources.

Despite elements of significant tension and a complex geopolitical context, Russian-Norwegian

cooperation has been a success in terms of its everyday management of maritime relations.36

This pragmatic cooperation has made it possible to overcome legal conflicts and to reach a

69

definitive agreement, concluded in April 2010 during Dmitry Medvedev‘s visit to Norway and

solemnly signed on September 15, 2010 (though it has still to be ratified by both parliaments

before it enters into force).37

Norway has withdrawn some of its territorial claims and Russia has

consented to a shift of the 1926 demarcation line to share the 175,000 square kilometers in two

almost equal parts defined by eight points.38

The endpoint is still undefined because of the

undefined edge of each parties‘ continental shelves in the Arctic Ocean. Russia was granted EEZ

rights in the area to the east of the boundary that lies within 200 nautical miles of the Norwegian

mainland but more than 200 from Russian territory. The treaty is also accompanied by

agreements on cooperation on fisheries and petroleum activities in cases where oil or gas

deposits extend across the delimitation line.39

The Norwegian-Russian Joint Fisheries

Commission will continue its activities but the agreement effectively terminates the Grey Zone

fishing arrangement of 1978. On the Russian side, this decision is eminently political. It was

taken against the advice of the jurists in charge of the dossier at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs,

who criticized Moscow for making excessive compromises.40

70

The 2010 Barents Sea Delimitation Treaty

71

4.5. The dispute around the Svalbard/Spitzenberg archipelago

The 2010 Russian-Norwegian agreement leaves unresolved another point of contention, namely

that of Svalbard/Spitzenberg. This archipelago, covering 61,000 square kilometers in the Barents

Sea, is the object of a complex legal debate concerning the limits of Norwegian sovereignty since

the independence of the country in 1905. Despite the many conferences organized around this

question in Oslo between 1910 and 1914, no solution was found and it was necessary to wait

until the Paris Peace Conference in 1920 to attain the signing of a treaty that was favorable to

Norway. The Svalbard Treaty, ratified by more than forty states in the absence of Soviet Russia,

which had no international legal recognition at the time, confirmed Norwegian sovereignty over

the Svalbard archipelago but under specific limits and conditions.

In 1924, lacking international recognition, the Soviet Union finally accepted Norwegian

sovereignty over Svalbard in exchange for the establishment of diplomatic relations with Oslo. In

1935, Moscow ratified the Svalbard Treaty, but continued to ask for joint jurisdiction over

Svalbard itself and for the inclusion of Bear Island under Soviet domain. For this, it has

requested that legal delimitation be decided according to the principle of equity, which supposes

that factors of economic importance (Russian fishing) and of historical precedence are to be

taken into account.41

The archipelago has allegedly been inhabited by Pomorian Russians since

the seventieth and eightieth centuries, but the Russian villages were destroyed during the

Crimean War, leaving only the Russian and Ukrainian population of the small mining town of

Barentsburg. Lastly, Moscow also wanted to establish its sovereignty over a territory stretching

to the Norwegian Tana River so as to rectify provisions of the 1826 convention establishing the

Norwegian-Russian border, which the Soviet Union found cumbersome.

The legal disputes around Svalbard/Spitzenberg are very complex. The Paris Treaty is sometimes

unclear and international maritime law underwent drastic changes in the second half of the

twentieth century. At the time of the Paris Treaty, the international law of the sea did not

recognize sovereign states‘ rights beyond a three-mile territorial sea, and defined a rectangle of

land and sea, which has since taken the name of the ―Svalbard box‖.42

Norway therefore decided

to take advantage of the evolution of international maritime law. In 1977, Oslo established a non-

discriminatory Svalbard Fisheries Protection Zone of 200 nautical miles around the Svalbard

Islands, kept distinct from the main Norwegian EEZ. In 1985, the Petroleum Activities Act

included the seabed and subsoil surrounding the Svalbard as part of Norwegian continental shelf,

and the government announced that it was opening part of it for exploration by its oil companies

(but no licenses have been granted). In 2003, Oslo decided to extend the breadth of its territorial

waters to 12 miles around Svalbard, resulting in an increase of approximately 35 percent in the

surrounding Norwegian territorial sea.43

These changes, which are in line with evolutions in the

international law of the sea, were decided in a unilateral way by Norway, without obtaining the

consent of the signatory countries of the Paris agreement (only Canada and Finland recognize

them). According to those states most opposed to Norway‘s claims, such as Great Britain, the

treaty does not authorize the establishment of maritime zones or enable coastal state jurisdiction

beyond the territorial sea without the agreement of the signatory parties. Other states have staked

out a middle ground. They recognize Norway‘s right to establish a fisheries zone and to exercise

coastal state jurisdiction, but maintain the rights for signatories contained in the treaty.44

72

The treaty contains complex clauses stipulating that ships and citizens of contracting parties are

permitted to undertake fishing and hunting on an equal basis on the lands and in the territorial

waters of the archipelago, and that all signatory states have equal access to conduct economic

activities there. The Svalbard mining code has to be favorable to foreign investors, so that the

taxes paid promote the archipelago, but not the budget of the Norwegian state.45

Russian protests

thus take the form of several arguments. They claim that Norwegian lawmakers have no

legislative grounds for invoking ―territorial sea‖ as a classical institution of contemporary

international maritime treaty law for marking off the EZZ around the archipelago or on its shelf.

46 Norwegian sovereignty is thus allegedly limited to the land, not the sea. They also criticize the

fact that Oslo applies Norwegian internal law to the archipelago, which restricts the exploitation

rights. Thus, the fisheries regime used by Oslo for Svalbard is more restricted in terms of

permitted catch than in the EEZ. In addition, Norway has unilaterally set in place a mining code

to apply to the islands‘ geological shelf that contradicts the Paris Treaty. The Svalbard

Environmental Protection Act could put into question the activities of the Russian state-owned

mining company Trust Arktikugol, which exploits the promising coal reserves of the Coles Bay

area. Moscow defends the economic interests of the mining town of Barentsburg and sees in

Oslo‘s environmental discourses a roundabout way to obstruct Russian activities on the

archipelago.47

The 2010 Russian-Norwegian Treaty on the Barents Sea does not settle the question of the

Svalbard, which presents specific legal problems. One of them is the huge difference in taxation

levels between Norway and the archipelago. Russian companies accessing the Svalbard

continental shelf should enjoy the same right as the Norwegian companies, which would

translate to taxes of less than 1 percent of the cost of the hydrocarbons produced. But as Russian

jurist Alexander Oreshenkov explained, ―If a deposit beginning within the limits of the

archipelago‘s territory extends beyond its territorial waters, the Russian companies will be

expected to observe the norms of Norway‘s continental mainland petroleum legislation, which

means that 78 percent of their earnings from the hydrocarbons produced outside Norway‘s

territorial waters will go away in tax payments to the Norwegian treasury.‖48

These financial

stakes are bound to be at the core of future negotiations.

****

Despite the media depictions of a forthcoming ―Ice Cold War,‖ none of the five Arctic coastal

states are involved in violent confrontation or unlawful occupation of disputed territories. State

behavior is guided by the agreed rules of international law, and territorial disputes have been

characterized as much by symbolic competition as by pragmatic cooperation. In 2009, Canadian

and Russian diplomats raised the possibility of making a joint submission to the CLCS, possibly

in cooperation with Denmark. Using the effective legal framework of the Arctic, all coastal states

have been proposing innovative ideas in order to map out future areas of cooperation.

However, several potential elements of tension are foreseeable in the years to come. For starters,

the growing demand of non-Arctic states to participate in the legal debate, which is the case for

China for instance. The Ilulissat declaration of May 2008 stipulates that the five Arctic coastal

states deal with the potential and challenges of the Arctic Ocean by virtue of their sovereignty,

sovereign rights, and jurisdiction in large areas of the ocean.49

This principle could be challenged

73

by emerging powers such as China, which does not intend to remain outside the potential Arctic

race. In addition, in case of the UN Commission‘s refusal to validate the claims made on the

continental shelf, some states could be tempted to find loopholes in the law. Thus if Lomonosov

and Mendeleev Ridges are not recognized as part of the Russian continental shelf, Moscow,

which has invested millions of dollars to gather the necessary scientific information, could

change its stance, become less favorable to respecting international law, and might ask for more

binding structures for dispute settlement.50

On the contrary, if Russia receives a positive report

from the UN Commission, on all or part of it, the territorial advantage gained on the Arctic

continental shelf will, in all legality, the other Arctic states will not be able to be call the decision

into question. It will modify the global geostrategic balance, as well as the prospects of economic

exploitation in Russia‘s favor.

Key Findings and Pathways to the Future

Russia has succeeded in settling its territorial disputes with Norway but still has to manage two

problems, the Svalbard/Spitzenberg archipelago and the ratification of the U.S.-Russian treaty on

the Chukchi and Bering Seas. The first dossier will probably be settled in the framework of

Russian-Norwegian relations and is above all a financial matter (payment of taxes to the

Norwegian state). The second might find a favorable outcome if the Kremlin decides to ratify the

agreement. But it is refusing to do so at the moment so that it has a way of pressuring

Washington in their negotiations over the fishing industry.

Russia respects all the international procedures for delimiting the continental shelf. Following

the pending decision of the UN Commission on the Limits of the Continental Shelf (UNCLOS),

Moscow could acquire vast Arctic territories, amounting to as much as 1.2 million square

kilometers, which would enable it to move radically closer to the Canadian and American coasts.

Legally acquiring this advantage means that Russia would not be able to be undermined by the

other Arctic states. It would, however, modify the overall geostrategic balance, as well as the

prospects of economic exploitation in Russia‘s favor.

It is entirely possible that the UNCLOS will refuse to validate these Russian claims, or only meet

a small part of them, or even refuse to give a ruling by considering the scientific information

provided insufficient to make a decision. Russia has invested considerable sums in scientific

research in order to legitimate its claims, and has projected grand nation-building rhetoric onto it.

In case of failure, Moscow‘s reaction will be unpredictable, but it would probably mean growing

resentment against UNCLOS.

Will Russia continue to respect international legislation if it deems the legal decision unjust or

unfavorable to it? The issue is worth discussing by way of preparation for Moscow‘s potential

attempts to circumvent a legal framework in the decades to come.

74

5. RUSSIAN MILITARY STRATEGY: PROJECTION OF POWER AND CAPACITIES

OF ACTION

The possible return to a strategic confrontation between Russia and NATO in the High North is

probably one of the most debated subjects in Russia in relation to the Arctic, just as it is in

Western countries. The Russian press has been quick to put forward the image of a new ―Ice

Cold War.‖ Indeed, all the major powers near one another in the Arctic, which makes the zone

fragile. However, putting self-assertive rhetorical declarations aside, the main trend in the Arctic

is that of desecuritization, since the opening up of the area to economic interests necessitates

shifting from traditional hard security to soft security issues, which are more amenable to

international cooperation. Compared to the nuclear tensions of the Cold War, the contemporary

situation has undergone a clear de-escalation. This does not mean, however, that the

militarization of the Arctic is not part of the state projection of power, or that the subject ought

not to be discussed. On the contrary, the best strategy is to raise the subject openly and realize

that the risks are low, rather than to avoid the question on the pretext that it could revive

tensions.

The High North occupies a very specific place in Russian defense strategy. Since the 1950s, this

region has been host to key industries and infrastructure related to the Russian nuclear deterrent,

in particular the installations on the Kola Peninsula, which have to be secured. The Arctic is

indeed a very convenient location for launching ballistic missiles, for missile defense systems,

missile early warning systems, and other elements of strategic deterrence systems. The High

North also guarantees access to the Atlantic Ocean and is therefore vital to the Russian Navy,

which needs it for its international missions, especially as Russia lost several ports in the Baltic

Sea and the Black Sea (Paldiski in Estonia and the question of Sevastopol in the Ukraine)

following the breakup of the Soviet Union. For the Russian Navy, its aims in this region of the

world have suddenly increased: modernizing the ballistic-missile submarine fleet; monitoring the

movement of warships between the Atlantic and Pacific; but also shielding trade routes and

protecting against pollution from hydrocarbon extraction; defending the maritime borders of the

Federation, its ships, and port infrastructures; and fighting against smuggling.

The Russian military strategy in the Arctic as defined in official documents is ambitious, but it is

nonetheless important to bear in mind the traditional gap between rhetoric and reality, and

between power projection and actual capabilities. The Russian Armed Forces have to face

multiple challenges at the same time: the changes to the international security environment,

which require adaptation to non-conventional threats; the country‘s demographic evolution,

which calls for a transition towards a professional army; the lack of financial resources available

to modernize the army corps and the military-industrial complex; the increasing amount of civil-

military cooperation and of foreign participation in modernizing trends; and the likely

privatization of part of the sector. All these elements will have an impact on the outcomes of

Moscow strategies in the Arctic region.

5.1. Russia’s Renewed Strategic Activism in the Arctic

In the second half of the 2000s, the symbolic rivalry between NATO and Russia in the Arctic

revived and the risk of militarizing the region was evoked. In 2008, NATO expressed the view

75

that the alliance needs to expand its military presence in the Arctic and also to discuss the issue

of securitizing this quickly evolving area. The 2008 U.S. Northern Edge exercise, led by the

Alaska Command, was obviously widely discussed in Russia as a symbol of the resumption of

the United States‘ ―aggressive activities‖ in the Arctic. Also in summer 2008, Russian military

exercises were organized close to Svalbard involving the cruisers Marshall Ustinov and the

Severomorsk, and the plan is now to hold these exercises at regular intervals. In 2009 Russia

organized military exercises at the Pemboy test range in the Komi Republic, while NATO had

―Cold Response‖ training in Northern Norway, its biggest exercise for the year involving more

than 7,000 soldiers from 13 countries.1 Russia also continues to conduct large-scale military

exercises in the Western part of its Arctic, such as in Ladoga in 2009, with scenarios involving

the protection of oil and gas installations in northwest Russia.2 The same year, the U.S. Navy

released a new roadmap for its activities relating to the Arctic for the next five years.3

Russia confirmed that it was expanding its current level of operations in the Arctic in 2008. The

Russian Navy resumed its warship presence in the Arctic Ocean and ever since military ships

have been patrolling near Norwegian and Danish defense zones. The navy also increased the

operational radius of the Northern Fleet‘s submarines and under-ice training for submariners has

become a priority task.4 For Moscow, the stakes are fundamental, since the Russian fleet cannot

enter the Atlantic except by passing through Arctic choke points, one being the junction of

Greenland, Iceland, and Norway, the other that of Greenland, Iceland, and the United Kingdom.5

The fear of being denied access to the open sea and the will to recreate a ―blue-water‖ navy

remain important drivers of Russian strategic activities near the Norwegian border: the choke

point between Svalbard Island, Bear Island, and mainland Norway is considered very sensitive

by the Russian Navy. In 2008 and 2009, Russia revived erstwhile Soviet traditions by organizing

several long-range cruises—the longest since the fall of the Soviet Union—in different parts of

the world. This was epitomized by the patrols undertaken by the nuclear-powered guided-missile

cruiser Peter the Great through the Mediterranean and Caribbean seas, and the South Atlantic

and Indian oceans.6

Moscow has also paid particular attention to the situation in the Svalbard archipelago, which it

interprets as indicative of global tensions with NATO. Indeed, Norway and Russia have

divergent ways of understanding the post-Cold war situation. Oslo wants to normalize the

provincial border of Finmark, which was previously heavily militarized as it formed the junction

between NATO and the Soviet Union. It opened it up to public and collective military activities

in the North Atlantic framework, but this evolution reinforced Russian concerns about the

militarization of the zone. According to the Svalbard Treaty, Norway cannot establish military

bases on the archipelago for warlike purposes. However, Olso considers that neither the Globus

II radar in Vardø, on the Norwegian mainland, nor the space-related activities on the archipelago

(the European Incoherent Scatter Scientific Association‘s radar, the Svalbard Satellite station,

and the Ny-A° lesund rocket range) can be considered military. As analyzed by Kristian Åtland

and Torbjørn Pedersen, Norway‘s decisions have accentuated Russian interpretations of a still

possible threat, and the fear of Western conspiracy continues to prevail in Russian readings of

the Svalbard issue.7 The Russian Navy is also focused on increasing the protection of the Russian

mining settlement at Barentsburg and on providing more effective protection for Russian

fishermen. Director of National Fisheries (Goskomrybolovstvo) Andrei Krainin has asked the

76

armed force to give ―psychological support‖ to the Russian trawlers navigating close to

Norwegian waters.8

Naval activism in the Arctic is accompanied by Russia‘s new dynamics in aviation. In 2007,

strategic bombers flew over the Arctic for the first time since the end of the Cold War.9 They

aimed at the usual Soviet-era destinations: Scandinavia towards the United Kingdom and

Iceland, and on to the North Atlantic, or via the Arctic towards Alaska and Canada.10

The British

Royal Air Force conducted 21 intercepts of Russian bombers between July 2007 and April

2008.11

In 2007, there were eighteen interceptions of Russian bombers in proximity of American

77

or Canadian airspace, twelve in 2008, and seventeen in 2009, as compared with eleven for the

entire period stretching between 1999 and 2006.12

Two Tu-95MS, based in Saratov on the Engels

aviation base with mid-flight refueling capability, now regularly patrol the Arctic.13

These over-

flights drew criticism from Canada, which has accused them of coming too close to Canadian

territory. They are also closely monitored by Oslo. In 2010, Russian strategic bombers managed

ten missions in the vicinity of Norwegian airspace, compared with twelve such missions in both

2009 and 2008.14

In June 2010, a pair of Tu-160 bombers covered 18,000 kilometers along the

route from the Arctic to the Bering Strait, the Alaskan coast, the Japanese Islands, Russia‘s

southern borders and Engels. For the first time in twenty years, the air force also organized

supply missions for the Russian polar base Barneo, sponsored by the Russian Society of

Geography.

Russian Arctic aviation is essentially made up of old turboprop Tu-95MS but also has sixteen

modern, long-range Tu-160 Blackjacks bombers at its disposal. Many air bases of the High North

have been reactivated, such as Anadyr, Monchegorsk, Olenia, Tiski, and Vorkuta, but with

limited capacities. The Russian air fleet is aged and its commission period will be pushed to its

maximum given the lack of finances. The shortage of mid-air refueling tankers remains the most

serious problem affecting the operational capabilities of Russian strategic aviation.15

For the

adjacent countries, the main risk of Russia‘s new air activism is not so much military conflict,

since Moscow has not presented these long-range flights as aggressive, as technical failures

(possible crash of one of its planes, absence of rescue system) or errors of interpretation.

In 2008 Lieutenant General Vladimir Shamanov, then director of the Central Direction of

Military Training and Troop Services (GUBD) at the Ministry of Defense, announced plans to

establish an Arctic special forces unit (spetsnaz) to support Russia‘s Arctic policy. To justify his

decision, he made reference to the North Region-2008 exercise undertaken by the United States

in Alaska, which involved more than 5,000 military personnel.16

He stated that the current

administrative apportionment within the Ministry of Defense would be reviewed so that

specialized sections could be created to cover the High North. The new troops would be

particularly mobile, be allocated an icebreaker, and be operational by 2016.17

Provisions will

likely also be made to strengthen FSB control over the region in order to deal with the new

threats that have arisen from the exploitation of the continental shelf and the proliferation of

maritime traffic: border control systems, the introduction of special visa regulations to certain

regions, and the implementation of technological controls over fluvial zones and sites along the

Northern Sea Route.18

As General Shamanov is known for his provocative declarations, these statements are difficult to

interpret because they took place within a framework of ideological escalation. The Russian

army‘s usual difficulties of putting into practice these calls for change suggest that the birth of

Arctic brigades will probably be a long and chaotic administrative process. However, the

direction has been set and these embryos of Arctic brigades are in the process of being realized.

A specific Arctic border guards section was created in 1994, the aim of which was to monitor the

circulation of ships and poaching at sea, prior to being reorganized in 2004-2005. In 2009, it

announced that new Arctic formations were established in border guard units in Arkhangelsk and

Murmansk and were patrolling along the Northern Sea Route for the first time since the

beginning of the 1990s.19

In 2011, Russian Defense Minister Anatoli Serdiukov declared that a

78

special Arctic brigade, equipped for military warfare in High North‘s conditions, would be

installed at Pechenga close to the Norwegian border town of Kirkenes.20

5.2. Upgrading the Northern Fleet and the Nuclear Deterrence

The greatest part of the Russian Armed Forces stationed in the Arctic is based at Murmansk (two

motorized brigades). The Arkhangelsk region gathers together the firing range of Novaya

Zemlya, where Russian nuclear weapons are tested, as well as the cosmodrome of Plesetsk, from

where Soyuz, Cosmos-3M, and Tsyklon rockets are launched. The strategic missile forces are

distributed between the Nenets autonomous district (Ural federal district), Taimyr (Krasnoyarsk

region), and several points in the Yakutia-Sakha Republic and up to Chukotka (Far East federal

district).21

Alexandra Land, in the Franz Joseph archipelago, is home to Nagurskaya, Russia‘s

northern most military base. However, the main structure of Russian defense in the Arctic is the

Northern Fleet. Based close to Murmansk in the north of the Kola Peninsula at Severomorsk,

where about two-thirds of the Russian Navy‘s nuclear force is stationed, it remains the most

powerful of the four Russian fleets (Pacific, Baltic, Black Sea, and Caspian), with the largest

number of icebreakers and nuclear submarines. It is in charge of all operations undertaken in the

Atlantic and is thus able to venture as far as the Caribbean or to conduct anti-pirate operations

close to the Gulf of Aden.

The Northern Fleet was hit hard by the collapse of the Soviet Union. In 1986, it comprised some

180 nuclear-powered submarines of different classes, while in 2010 it had been reduced by three-

quarters to just 42.22

Its recent history has been marked by several failures. A total of four

submarines have sunk, including the Kursk in 2000, and its ballistic missile launches regularly

fail. The navy also faces numerous problems related to its aging fleet (the average age is twenty

years), the naval nuclear fuel cycle, the disposal of radioactive waste, and contamination issues.

The naval nuclear reactors concentrated in this region are dangerous, many of the nuclear

submarines waiting to be decommissioned are poorly securitized, and large amounts of nuclear

waste remains stored on vessels specially designed for dumping at sea.23

The modernization

efforts to be undertaken are therefore immense and multifaceted. Among the armed forces, the

navy was the biggest loser from the drastic reduction of military budgets in the 1990s. It saw its

share of the defense budget drop from 23 percent to 9 percent. In addition, the modernization

objectives mentioned in the two state programs (1996-2005 and 2001-2010) were never

achieved. The third State Program for the Armed Forces (2007-2015) finally signaled the return

of the navy and its symbolic and financial reassessment. For the first time in several decades, it

has been placed on an equal footing with other corps and one-quarter of the budget is dedicated

to building new ships, even if the amount is in fact largely insufficient.24

The Northern Fleet has close to eighty operational ships of different categories, while thirty-odd

ones are being repaired or on stand-by.25

The fleet‘s nuclear-powered submarines are divided

into eleven ballistic missile submarines (SSBNs), four cruise missile submarines (SSGNs), and

about twenty multi-purpose attack submarines (SSNs). It also manages six missile cruisers,

which Russia sees as key elements in the restoration of the strategic bastion concept in the

Arctic. The Northern Fleet has two flagships at its disposal, the largest nuclear icebreaker in the

world, Fifty Years of Victory, and the main nuclear-powered guided-missile cruiser, Peter the

Great. After the latter‘s successful trip around the world, the Ministry of Defense announced that

79

it would upgrade three others heavy nuclear-powered missile cruisers, the Admiral Lazarev, the

Admiral Nakhimov, and the Admiral Ushakov, which are or will undergoing modernization in

terms of equipment and armaments.26

Currently, the Admiral Kuznetsov and the Admiral

Nakhimov operate with the Northern Fleet, each of which hosts twenty planes on board and ten

anti-submarine helicopters.27

Another anti-missile cruiser, the Vice-Admiral Kulakov, recently

repaired, was integrated into the Northern Fleet in January 2011.28

Naval aviation includes 200

combat planes and fifty helicopters. As with the other fleets, the Northern is severely lacking in

costal ships and frigates able to conduct rapid intervention operations. Several are currently

under construction, but the waiting times are problematic insofar as they reduce the fleet‘s

protection capabilities.29

The Northern Fleet

The future of the Northern Fleet is closely linked to the question of nuclear deterrence.30

The

older sea-based nuclear deterrent is in the process of being modernized. As of 2010, the Russian

Navy had six operational Delta III and six Delta IV strategic submarines that form the sea-based

arm of its strategic nuclear deterrent. There are no plans to renovate the older Delta III class

submarines, which were built during the 1980s, and they will be decommissioned in the years to

come. The Delta IV are being modernized. They will be equipped with a new sonar system and

the new intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) Sineva, a third-generation liquid-propelled

ICBM that entered service in 2007.31

In 2010, the Northern Fleet acquired the Karelia, which has

been modernized to augment its tactical and technical capabilities and equipped with Sineva.32

On October 11, 2008, during Northern Fleet military exercises, a Sineva rocket was fired from

the nuclear submarine Tula reaching its longest distance yet, more than 11,500 kilometers.33

Russia is planning to equip its Delta IV class submarines with at least 100 Sineva missiles, able

80

to carry either four or ten nuclear warheads. This system, which is to stay on alert status until

2030, enables missiles to be launched from under the ice while remaining invisible to hostile

observation satellites until the last moment.34

Many typhoon-class strategic submarines—the world‘s largest, built in the 1980s—will also be

rearmed to carry long-range cruise missiles. For the moment, only one, the Dmitri Donskoy, has

been modernized and placed with the Northern Fleet. It serves to conduct test firing for the

Bulava system, a new generation solid-fuel SLBM, built to avoid possible future U.S. ballistic

missile defense (BMD) weapons, and which can cover more than 8,000 kilometers. In the future,

the typhoons will be replaced with the new Borey-class nuclear-powered strategic submarines

(Project 955). The first Borey-class submarine, the Yuri Dolgoruky, built in 1996, was placed

with the Northern Fleet, while two others, the Alexander Nevsky and the Vladimir Monomakh,

are being constructed at the Severodvinsk shipyard.35

In total, the building of eight fourth-

generation Borey-class submarines is set for completion in 2015-2020. This new generation is

almost undetectable in at deep ocean depths and can be used for multi-purpose attacks. Thanks to

its weaponry, including several types of cruise missiles and torpedoes, it will be able to carry out

diverse missions, chase enemy aircraft carriers, and deliver massive missile strikes on coastal

targets.36

Along with Topol-M land-based ballistic missiles, the new Bulava system is set to become the

core of Russia‘s nuclear triad and will be the only Russian sea-based ICBM after 2020-2025.

However, the Russian army has had to face unforeseen technological difficulties. In 2006-2009 a

long string of unsuccessful test launches (six out of eleven have failed) seemed to call into

question the future of Bulava, but since 2010 a new wave of launching has been successful.37

The second stage of Bulava tests will start at the end of May 2011.38

Successful or not, the costs

for developing the Bulava and the Borey submarines take up a large part of the military budget,

especially in times of economic crisis. By focusing on nuclear armaments and parity with the

United States, the Russian Army has avoided getting involved in any real doctrinal or strategic

reform. Moscow‘s grand plans for the Arctic should therefore be analyzed in the context of the

modernization troubles experienced by the armed forces.

5.3. Waiting for the new-century Russian Army

The Russian Army was one of the major forgotten institutions of the economic liberalization of

the 1990s, the Russian state spending almost nothing on it for almost a decade. Upon his arrival

in power, Putin took things back in hand: new military doctrines in 2002 and 2007, the

reintroduction of Soviet military ranks, the maintaining of conscription and the rejection of

alternative forms of service, and the remilitarization of society through the resumption of training

sessions for reserve officers and general mobilization exercises. Between 2000 and 2008, the

Russian military budget increased by 500 per cent, especially in strategic sectors such as

weaponry, the navy, and missiles. And the Russian space program has also been relaunched.39

In

2010, the Russian military budget stood at 61 billion dollars, or 2.6 percent of the national

budget, which is a level of expenditure equivalent to that of medium powers such as France or

Great Britain, and incomparable with the American or Chinese budgets. Even if expenditure is in

fact higher, insofar as certain sections do not figure in the public calculations and spending is

eroded by corruption, in particular in weapons acquisition.40

81

Despite its growing purchases of material, the state of Russian military material remains well

below contemporary technological norms. With the exception of specific leading-edge sectors,

the material is largely outdated, obsolete, or not functioning. Moreover, the money that was

pumped into the military sector during Vladimir Putin‘s two terms as president does not in itself

constitute reform. On the contrary, there was a partial return to the logics of the Soviet army.41

The military elite has had difficulties in understanding the stakes of recruiting conscripts in a

country in full demographic crisis and of accepting the idea of alternative forms of service and

professional recruitment. Hazing (dedovshchina42

) goes largely unpunished, corruption among

officers is massive, professionalism and discipline are in decline, and the quality of military

techniques in difficult terrain has not improved between Afghanistan and the two wars in

Chechnya. The war against Georgia was won only through the power differential between the

two countries, not thanks to the tactical superiority of the Russian Army. Russian deficiencies in

terms of weaponry and the manifest unpreparedness of its air forces to conduct operations of

neutralization of adversary air defense systems have indeed only worked to confirm the Russian

Army‘s immense difficulties to come to terms with new war patterns. 43

The reform plan announced at the end of 2008 by Defense Minister Anatoli Serdiukov

anticipates a large, as yet unattained, transformation of the Russian Armed Forces, to make it an

army with fewer men, but more mobile, better trained, and better equipped. For this, army

personnel will have to be reduced to one million by 2016, and by 2012 between 150,000 and

200,000 men of the officer corps will be transferred to the reserve army.44

However, this

modernization has been slower than expected, and upper ranks of the Ministry of Defense have

continued to resist the political will. In addition, even if the decision to dismantle extensive

infrastructure for mass mobilization in preparation of a large-scale conventional war in order to

focus on operations and efficiency is the right one, the question of combat readiness and the

disorganization of the chain of command remain problematic.45

Lastly, there are insufficient

funds to create domestic human and technological capital.

Moreover, for two decades now, Russian military doctrines have been rather vague about how to

define potential enemies, which hampers the reshaping of doctrines and practices.46

Strategic

issues are probably among those that are bound to undergo more drastic evolutions in Russia in

the decades to come. The Russian view of security already evolved throughout the 2000s. The

start of the decade was dominated by a classical schema, founded on hard military security. The

New Conception of National Security for 2020, which was adopted in May 2009 to replace that

of 1997 and then modified in 2000, advances more nuanced and subtle arguments, reflecting

changes within the international security environment.47

The concept defines security much more

broadly, and includes energy security, soft security challenges, the environment, health,

education, technologies, living standards, and so on. A large part of the concept is devoted to the

domestic dimension of security, to energy security, to the growing competition for resources in

the Middle East, the Caspian Sea, and Central Asia, as well as in the Arctic region.

The definition of enemies and dangers has also changed.48

Even if some prisms inherited from

the Cold War still shape Russian perceptions,49

today Moscow takes into account two categories

of danger: non-traditional threats and strategic uncertainties. Within this prism, ―the West‖ is no

longer a real danger, even if U.S. unilateralism continues to be classified as a threat. No real

82

military conflict is envisaged with Washington or Europe. Indeed the focus is almost exclusively

on the nuclear equation and the—at least apparent—balance of conventional forces. Although

official Russian sources refuse to admit it publicly, China is seen as a forthcoming danger in

terms of strategic uncertainty and growing imbalance of power.50

The ―South,‖ which includes

the North Caucasus, Transcaucasia, Central Asia, Afghanistan, and Iran, combines both non-

traditional threats and strategic uncertainty. These trends are likely to bear out in the decades to

come.51

Russia is caught between its ambitions for global power and its capacities for regional power. A

pessimistic reading of the international environment speaks in favor of massive investments in

military terms, while the size of the country and zones to be securitized calls for a withdrawal

into local and regional issues. Mindful of its brand-image within the international community,

Russia wishes to become a more engaged actor in international peace and humanitarian

operations, but this is a costly strategy and the army is reluctant to expose to its Western

homologues its disciplinary and organizational problems, as well as its difficulties in terms of

technology and capacity.52

Russia‘s global ambitions are in any case bound to become more

moderate. The Minister of Defense has already said several times that the four bases outside its

borders (in Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, South Ossetia, and Abkhazia) are costly and that the

operations in the Atlantic, such as in the Gulf of Aden, ought to be limited. The land forces will

find it difficult to go too far from Russian borders. The deficits in terms of communications

technologies are especially striking and for the moment prevent any sizeable project in which

conventional forces would have to go abroad, unless this is to the Near Abroad. The Maritime

Doctrine of the Russian Federation for the Year 2020 outlined a regional rather than a global role

for the navy. The aim is no longer to withstand a large-scale conventional attack but to manage

smaller, regional conflicts in East Asia and the Near Abroad, to develop counter-piracy

strategies, and to secure energy resources.53

On the human level, the army will have to be drastically reformed as its resources become

scarce. The generation gap is immense: the majority of highly ranked officers and qualified

personnel of the industrial-military complex are 55 years old or more, and the younger

generations have been poorly primed for the changeover. The principle of universal military

service will be put into question by the demographic drop of the Russian population. In 2015-

2016, the draft pool will comprise only half the conscripts to which the army is used to receiving;

it will go from more than a million draftees, and therefore prospective recruits, to about

600,000.54

Attempts to make the service more appealing, to force students to do it by reducing

the possibilities of evasion and by extending the age of conscription, and to fight against the

massive corruption which enables to avoid enrollment are destined to remain unsuccessful.55

Moreover, the ethnic composition of draftees is going to change rather severely, with more and

more youth coming from the North Caucasus. Moscow will therefore have to envisage a radical

change in its military recruitment practices. It will need to give priority to a relatively small

professional army, create a professional non-commissioned officers corps, and promote the

employment of contract employees for durations of a few years.

The financial stakes are also immense, as they are intrinsically linked to the question of Russia‘s

global technical and technological modernization. Moscow intends to increase procurement

expenditure significantly over the coming decade: the budget of the Defense Ministry should

83

receive about US$613 billion for new arms up to 2020.56

While the sum seems considerable, it

remains modest with regard to fundamental needs and would only cover those of the strategic

nuclear forces, air defense, and the air force. This enormous investment plan includes eight

nuclear submarines, 600 warplanes, 1,000 helicopters and 100 naval vessels. To meet the

additional requirements for re-arming ground troops, the navy, and space forces, Russia would

need to triple the assigned amount from now until 2020, supposing that it would actually be

allocated in its entirety.57

In March 2010 Dmitry Medvedev stated that he wished to see an

annual equipment-renewal rate across the armed forces of 9 to 11 percent, compared with the

current 2 percent, in order to modernize two-thirds of military equipment by 2020.58

These

projections seem too ambitious and will, in practice, turn out to be much less effective than

forecast.

Other, more positive evolutions are underway. Civil-military cooperation, which extended in

scope in the 2000s, is for instance becoming one of the main trends of future decades. The

army‘s weakness in comparison to economic groups has altered power relations, and despite the

revival of the Russian military sector, for the Ministry of Defense there can be no question of

setting aside the interests of companies like Gazprom, Rosneft, Lukoil, or Norilsk Nickel, which

have powerful backing within the state administration and can counterbalance the military voice.

These companies, whether public or private, and the army have come to the pragmatic

conclusion that they are dependent on one another. The civil-military relationship is therefore in

the process of changing profoundly, motivated not by reasons of principle concerning the control

of civil society over the military, but by pragmatic economic interests that the army accepts or

tries to turn to its own advantage.59

Moreover, Russia has lost much technological knowledge and today can no longer modernize its

army in an autarkic manner, thanks only to its domestic market. It will therefore be led to change

itself profoundly on this issue and have to accept receiving massive amounts of supplies from

foreign companies in order to get the latest in military technology. The purchase of French

Mistrals in 2010 confirmed that the Russian industry lacks the technical expertise and capacity to

build such complex ships.60

Even if some of the components will be manufactured in Russia, the

military-industrial complex is going to have difficulties in bridging the technological gap with

Western countries. Between 2000 and 2010, it launched only a few frigates and corvettes. The

contract signed with India to transform the Admiral Gorshkov took more years than expected to

complete and has been more costly, so considerable has been the scale of the conversion. Foreign

participation, mainly from Europe, Israel, and the United States, thus seems likely in future

modernization efforts. This implies that the military-industrial complex will have to emerge, at

least partially, from its secretive culture. As for the Kremlin, it will have to learn to manage the

rather classical contradiction between the imperatives of competitiveness, which imply more

openness to industrial partnerships with foreign companies, and considerations of sovereignty.

Another trend that is taking shape, a corollary of the preceding one, is the privatization of some

of the Russian industrial complex, including some companies with ties to military affairs. In

2010, the government stated its intention to sell its shares in ten large companies so as to raise 30

billion dollars. Amongst the ten large companies to be sold are Rosneft, RusHydro, Sberbank,

and Sovcomflot. In the Arctic region, this privatization project concerns the port of Murmansk,

one of the jewels of the Russian fishing fleet, the Arkhangelsk Trawler Fleet, and the mining

84

company Apatit, near Kirovsk, a cornerstone enterprise on the Kola Peninsula.61

The presence of

private and/or foreign players is therefore going to develop further, and will impact on the

security sector as a series of arguments will come into play which are less subject to security

decisions.

5.4. Projecting Future Military Power in the Arctic

All the trends mentioned are bound to have an impact on the way in which Moscow formulates

its strategic goals in the Arctic and tries to concretize its power in the decades to come. The

Arctic region will become more subject to non-traditional threats than to classic, military-

centered conflicts. Security will have to be assured at least partly in a collegial manner, with

international cooperation; it will necessitate cutting-edge technology that Russia can only obtain

from abroad, or via the private sector; and the virtual opening of a new border façade will force a

shift in threat perception to the north.

The Russian projections of power in the Arctic progressed rather distinctly throughout the

2000s.62

The first Arctic Policy of 2001 outlined traditional military tensions in the region,

projected as a new zone of conflicts of interest and of rivalry for spheres of influence between

great powers. In 2008, the second Arctic Policy did not continue with the belligerent rhetoric of

its predecessor and notably also mentions the multitude of non-traditional risks and the need for

international cooperation between coastal countries, in particular in terms of search and rescue

systems.63

Under the auspices of the project launched by Medvedev for a revised European

security architecture, the Arctic is presented as a region requiring cooperation between Europe

and Russia.64

Thus, potential tensions with NATO are relegated to the background, and only

materialize in terms of the nuclear deterrent, and to a lesser extent naval capabilities. The

unpublished ―Foundations of the state‘s policy in the area of nuclear deterrence to 2020,‖ which

accompanies the military doctrine of 2009, re-asserts that Russia‘s strategic deterrence forces

will still act as the country‘s main guarantor against any large-scale aggression either from the

East, West, or South.65

The projection of Russian power in the Arctic thus emphasizes the need

to maintain the nuclear deterrent as well as foster international cooperation in terms of soft

security.

As such, the defining of missions for the Armed Forces and for the siloviki has evolved. The

combat capability required for securing the border is briefly mentioned. Here the enemy is no

longer another state, but the terrorist threat along the Northern Sea Route, as well as dangers of

smuggling, illegal immigration, and even risks for aquatic biological resources. The Arctic

Policy also mentions potential small-scale conflicts around energy deposits or transporters,

without envisaging the possibility that they could degenerate into an inter-state conflict.66

Such

as they are defined, the Arctic dangers therefore concern the Security Federal Services (FSB), its

border guards section, and the troops of the Ministry of Emergency Situations, more than they do

the Ministry of Defense properly speaking. The Northern Sea Route is currently controlled from

the air by FSB aircrafts, and on the land and sea by the North-Eastern Border Guard Agency, but

the Russian border guard service plans to establish a global monitoring network from Murmansk

to the Wrangel Island.67

85

In this very broadly defined security architecture, two traditional forces appear to stay relevant:

air and naval. The air force that regained favor in the 2000s is perceived by Moscow as a central

element in its demonstration of power and its international legitimacy. The Russian aviation

industry still comprises niches of excellence such as the strategic fleet and nuclear air power,

tactical and strategic transport, ground-to-ground and ground-to-air missiles, but the remainder

of the stock is ageing and obsolete, and very precise missile guidance weaponry is largely

absent.68

The Maritime Doctrine of the Russian Federation for the Year 2020 ambitiously plans

to transform the Russian Navy to the second most powerful in the world, after the U.S. Navy, in

twenty to thirty years. However, it puts great emphasis on issues such as the Arctic, territorial

disputes, and undersea resources, and leaves asides the traditional security risks (a military attack

from another state). 69

The Russian Navy thus seems destined to play a key role in securing

borders and regional issues, but will have a very limited capacity of intervention in remote

theaters.

The navy is likely to have the priority in terms of military procurement expenditure until 2020,

including the purchase of more than 30 submarines and 40 surface combatants. This would

represent a substantial turnover in Russia‘s fleet. The new vessels will include eight ballistic-

missile submarines, 22 attack submarines, 12 frigates, 20 corvettes, and 10 landing ships. No

carrier, cruiser, or destroyer is currently being built, confirming the lack of attention being given

to large-scale conflict with any of the main world powers.70

A new ice-reinforced typhoon will

be designated specifically for the Arctic water. The French Mistrals will be assigned as a matter

of priority to the Northern Fleet, and to the Pacific Fleet, whose needs are even greater. In the

decades to come, the Northern Fleet is bound to abandon single-function vessels in favor of

multi-purpose and more mobile ones, coastal vessels, especially corvettes, which guarantee the

safety of Russian coast.71

The future missions of the Northern Fleet will be directly linked with protecting the growing

economic interests of the Russian state in the Arctic. Strengthened cooperation with energy firms

has enabled the fleet to garner material advantages. For example, it currently benefits from

cheaply priced fuel, offered to it by extraction companies, and gets some of its port infrastructure

renovated at the latter‘s expense without having to use up its own budget. The energy companies,

for their part, foster the support of the Northern Fleet in implementing anti-terrorism protection

systems, obtaining the authorization to extract or to circulate in the sea, and accessing existing

port infrastructures, fuel storage sites, and the large naval construction sites in the country‘s

north. Gazprom, Lukoil, and Norilsk Nickel have to contend not only with the lack of ice-free

civil ports, but also with the absence of ports in deep water that are able to host 300,000 ton

tankers. They would also like to take advantage of the military ships used for hydrographic and

hydrometeorological research, and coordinate a sea rescue system of extreme logistical

complexity.

Many examples attest to this civil-military rapprochement of interest. In 2005, the Russian navy

and Gazprom signed an agreement about the latter‘s use of auxiliary ships, ports, and naval

military sites, including setting up a security and rescue system and maritime routes navigable by

tankers, as well as establishing cooperation in terms of LNG.72

This enabled Gazprom to

construct an LNG processing plant for the Shtokman field in the closed town of Vidyaevo, and a

submarine base and garrison on the north shore of the Kola Peninsula. Further, in 2006, the

86

Ministry of Defense agreed to provide Russian industry with previously classified geological and

topological maps. Since the 1990s, the army has allowed Lukoil Arctic Tankers to use a military

fuel storage facility at Mokhnatkina Pakhta, near Murmansk, but denied the oil company the

right to build a refinery, judging its location too close to military installations. One can therefore

note how, despite projection of power, Russian realities are much more pragmatic. The

importance accorded to the energy sector means issues of the market and profitability tend to

take priority over security decisions.73

The increasing exploitation of Arctic resources, however, raises tactical and technical problems

for which the Northern Fleet will have to find solutions. The proliferation of platforms at sea, not

to mention rigs, pipelines, and terminals on the coastlines, as well as the growth in maritime

traffic represents a new challenge for the army. Most oil facilities are not mobile, and this will

force the Ministry of Defense to put in place instruments to assure their protection in case of

interstate conflict. Even if the Russian military considers these risks minimal, the potential for

localized conflict must be taken into account. The securing of the platforms, pipelines, and ships

against possible terrorist attacks accentuates the role of the special services in non-traditional

threats. It entails that defense be reoriented around mobile units able to react rapidly and

equipped with high-technology hardware. The presence of foreign companies in resource

extraction also implies that non-Russian interests can be involved, which will alter the strategic

givens and the diplomatic leeway available in cases of conflict. In addition, the presence of a

large number of tankers crossing sensitive zones can impede the circulation of military ships as

well as submarines, which require space to maneuver, and increase the risks of collision. Finally,

the sonar emissions given off by the platforms and the oil industry interfere with military radar

systems.74

*****

Although Russian military presence in the Arctic has increased since 2008, this activism has to

be compared not to the 1990s and the start of the 2000s, when Russia was absent from the Arctic

theater, but to the Soviet period. By looking at things in this way, it appears clearly that the

current Russian military presence in the Arctic remains minimal as compared to the Soviet

period. Norway itself has stated that Russian activities are rather ―a return to a more normal level

of activity for a major power with legitimate interests in the region.‖75

Russia, having already

reached the limit of its capabilities, has restored only a small fraction of the capability once

possessed by the Soviet Air Force. Moreover, Moscow has been acting in a pre-emptive manner.

Geopolitical uncertainty in the Arctic is pushing it to get more distinctly involved, while hoping

that desecuritization actually comes about. Power projections are therefore far removed from

actual capacity to act. Behind the nationalist-tinged discourse, which is sometimes fairly

aggressive towards the West, Russia‘s goals are more pragmatic and include: attempts to reform

the army, to upgrade the navy, to modernize the Northern Fleet, to increase civil-military

cooperation, and to create mechanisms of cooperation with foreign and private firms.

It seems rather self-evident that modernization plans for the Russian army will be impossible to

realize in the indicated timeframe: the old, Soviet-style functioning of the military domain, the

economic slow-downs linked to the crisis of 2008 and to its long-term consequences, as well as

the usual administrative delays, overspendings, technical challenges, and drop in human capacity

87

will have an impact on the modernization program. However, the direction has been set and

Moscow seems intent on investing considerable sums to confront particularly varied strategic

challenges. However, as Dmitry Trenin reminds us, in this program, ―tactics prevail, medium-

term thinking is just emerging, and no national interest worth the name has surfaced.‖76

In the

decades to come, Moscow will experience a fundamental alteration in its threat perception.

Conventional dangers, in particular in East Asia, will necessitate the maintenance of a classical

army; nuclear deterrence will continue to be perceived as confirming Russia‘s status in the

international arena, and a means by which to negotiate geostrategic balance with NATO and the

United States, but at the same time priority will be given to non-traditional threats.

Such dangers will present a challenge for Russia. The territory that it has to protect is immense,

the southern border difficult to control and the Arctic likely to become a new open frontier, this

time to the north. Responsibility for soft security currently falls to the special forces (troops of

the FSB, the Interior Ministry, and the Emergency Situations Ministry), but the future will also

see in-depth transformations take place within the Russian Army, so that it too can take part in

soft security. This implies the transition to a professional army with a rapid reaction capability,

one which is trained in cutting-edge technologies, has technologies from the private sector

(telecommunications), or at least dual ones, and is used to engaging in cooperation with foreign

players. Projected strategic power in the Arctic thus contains all the elements of the dilemma that

the Russian Army has faced since the fall of the Soviet Union. Its success or its failure will

embody the more global fate of the in-depth transformations awaiting the Russian Armed Forces

and strategic thinking in the years to come.

Key findings and Pathways to the Future

The traditional gap between rhetoric and the real capacities of the Russian army is still more

clear-cut on Arctic-related questions, which are challenging for all actors.

Russia will find the idea of a nuclear-free zone in the Arctic difficult to accept, as its nuclear

deterrence is intrinsically linked to its northern territories. Nuclear deterrence is the only hard

security element that Moscow intends to maintain in the Arctic as a symbol of its power balance

with the West. The other security stakes are linked to non-traditional threats.

The future of Russian defense in the Arctic will be concentrated on potential small-scale

conflicts around energy deposits or transit, smuggling, illegal immigration, terrorism risks, and

environmental issues. It is legitimate that Russia wants to strengthen the security of its Arctic

coastline, and this serves NATO‘s interests; the risks of smuggling nuclear or biological arms

cannot be dismissed.

Russia is more likely to be amenable to international cooperation in soft, rather than hard,

security issues, hence the duality of its discourse. The military narrative is still focused on

NATO as its main strategic concern, while the Ministry of Emergency Situations promotes

international cooperation, for instance on a research and rescue system.

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Military reform will be a challenging process. The country‘s demographic evolution encourages

the birth of a professional army, and its lack of financial resources requires the modernization of

the entire army corps and military-industrial complex. The Russian Armed Forces will be forced

to increase civil-military cooperation and foreign participation, and probably to privatize part of

the military-industrial sector.

Although the aviation and navy sectors are the two priorities in the modernization of the Russian

Armed Forces, they nonetheless also have other more difficult challenges to contend with:

Russia‘s accumulated deficit in matters of communication, radars and satellites; and the loss of

human capital in the army. To this must be added the lack of cooperation, and even rivalry,

between the Ministry of Defense and the siloviki, which may hamper efficiency in securitizing

the Russian Arctic.

The revival of Russian military activities, mainly naval and in aviation, in the Arctic is not a sign

of re-escalation with the West. Moscow is behaving preemptively. Strategic uncertainty is

pushing it to flex its muscles. Russia knows that it cannot expose itself to real tensions with

NATO other than in small, post-Soviet states and non-NATO members like Georgia.

The trend towards desecuritization of the Arctic has to be openly discussed between NATO and

Russia. In each country, strategic planning needs to articulate more clearly the growing shift

from hard to soft security and the possibility of uncontrolled escalating tensions

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6. ARCTIC WEALTH. RESOURCE NATIONALISM OR COOPERATIVE PATTERNS?

For Russia, the economic stakes related to the Arctic region are particularly significant, in large

part due to its geographic localization. As much as 20 percent of Russia‘s GDP and 22 percent of

total Russian exports are generated north of the Arctic Circle.1 In terms of resources, Russia

produces about 95 percent of its gas, 75 percent oil, and large volumes of nickel, tin, platinum

and gold in Arctic regions. To this must be added the wealth—often estimated, rarely proven—of

the continental shelf and seabed, not to mention water volume. This economic focus on the

Arctic is clearly the engine of Russian interest in the region and guides the choices made in terms

of security and regional development. Russia dreams of itself becoming a new energy

superpower thanks to the rising demand coming from Chinese and Indian economic growth. The

―Energy Strategy for Russia up to 2020,‖ ratified in 2003, defines the Barents Sea, Kara Sea, and

the Yamal Peninsula as strategic for the country‘s future. Yet the energy sector, which drives the

entire Russian economy, faces severe reductions in production and low rates of regeneration, and

must turn quickly to the Arctic riches. But this changing geography of oil and gas also has a high

price.

Russia is also banking on the mineral industries, which had always been important in the Soviet

economic structure. They started picking up after the crisis of the 1990s and are booming thanks

to rising global prices for major metals. They are preparing for a race for rare earths metals,

which should ensure substantial revenues for the Russian state budget in decades to come.

Finally, Russian coastline is the world‘s second longest after Indonesia and the country‘s EEZ

covers 7.6 million square kilometers, including access to twelve seas and three oceans, and over

two million rivers. With Asian markets in full demand, the fishing industry cannot be discounted;

it also carries symbolic weight for Russia, as the Soviet Union has always thought of itself as a

fishing power. However, Moscow‘s plan to transform the Arctic into ―Russian Federation‘s

leading strategic resource base‖2 by 2020 is still something of a declaration of intent. The

transition from idea to reality is always more complex, longer, and more costly than expected.

6.1. The Force of Statistics? The “Arctic Bonanza”

Peak Oil theory states that the annual production of oil and gas is soon set to start decreasing

rapidly due to depleting world reserves. However, thanks to new discoveries and technologies,

the known number of reserves is continuing to rise, and has even doubled since the 1980s.3 In

2000, the U.S. Geological Survey (USGS) estimated that 25 percent of the world‘s remaining

undiscovered oil and gas resources were in the Arctic. These figures have long been debated, for

example by the consulting firm Wood Mackenzie in The Future of the Arctic: A New Dawn for

Exploration, which gave a more cautious assessment of 29 percent of undiscovered gas and 10

percent of oil.4 More regionally focused analysis made the 2008 U.S. Geological Survey more

precise: only 13 percent of the world‘s remaining undiscovered oil reserves are in the Arctic, but

up to 30 percent for the gas. It would mean that 90 billion barrels of oil, 1,669 trillion cubic feet

of natural gas, and 44 billion barrels of natural gas liquids may remain to be found, of which

approximately 84 percent is in offshore areas. More than 70 percent of undiscovered natural gas

is estimated to occur in three provinces, the West Siberian Basin, the East Barents Basin, and

Arctic Alaska.5

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Caution is needed with these numbers, and the USGS has been criticized for over-estimation.

The report did not include unconventional sources, such as coal bed methane, gas hydrate, oil

shale, and tar sands, and did not take into account economic considerations linked to the costs of

exploration and development. Resources are not necessarily reserves, as they may not be

extractable. Estimated reserves are not necessarily proven reserves. Finally, proven reserves may

not always be commercially recoverable. Whatever the actual figures, the proportions confirm

that Russia will largely dominate the production of Arctic hydrocarbons with between 60 and 70

percent of reserves: the gas reserves are almost all in the Russian part of the Arctic, while oil is

better distributed, with numerous reserves in the North American section, as well. Russian

reserves are mainly situated on the continental shelf, and only a very small percentage of them

are onshore.

The 2008 U.S. Geological Survey for Russian Regions

Provinces Oil (MMBO) Total Gas

(BCFG)

NGL

(MMBNGL)

BOE (MMBOE)

West Siberian

Basin

3,659 651,498 20,328 132,571

East Barents Basin 7,406 317,557 1,422 61,755

Yenisei-Khatanga

Basin

5,583 99,964 2,675 24,919

Laptev Sea Shelf 3,115 32,562 867 9,409

Barents Platform 2,055 26,218 278 6,704

Eurasia Basin 1,342 19,475 520 5,108

North Kara Basins

and Platforms

1,807 14,973 390 4,693

Timan-Pechora

Basin

1,667 9,062 202 3,380

Lomonosov-

Makarov

1,106 7,156 191 2,491

Lena-Anabar Basin 1,912 2,106 56 2,320

North Chukchi-

Wrangel Foreland

Basin

85 6,065 106 1,203

Vikitskii Basin 98 5,741 101 1,156

Northwest Laptev

Sea Shelf

4,488 119 1,039

Lena-Vilyui Basin 376 1,335 35 635

Zyryanka Basin 47 1,505 40 338

East Siberian Sea

Basin

19 618 10 133

Total for Russia 30 277 1,200,223 27,340 257,854

For Russia, its future as an energy power is in the Arctic. Over 80 percent of its gas and 70

percent of its oil reserves are in the Arctic regions, and respectively 30 percent and 12 are on the

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continental shelf.6 Two-third of these resources is located in Russia‘s western Arctic, in the

Barents and Kara Seas, and in the Timan-Pechora basin, with about 8.2 billion tons of

hydrocarbons. Major possible fields also exist in the Okhotsk Sea, on the Kamchatka Peninsula,

and in the Laptev Sea.7 Minor oil and gas deposits have been discovered in the onshore

territories near the Bering Sea. Finally, the deep-water plateau between the Lomonosov and

Mendeleev Ridges, at the core of Russia‘s territorial claims to the UN Commission on the Limits

of the Continental Shelf, is a promising area for the more distant future.

Russia‘s Ministry of Natural Resources states that the country‘s Arctic contains around 80 billion

tons of hydrocarbon deposits or 586 billion barrel oil equivalent (boe). The Ministry for Industry

and Energy calculates that Russia could be extracting upwards of 110 million tons of oil and 160

billion cubic meters (bcm) of gas from the Arctic shelf by 2030. Russia‘s strategy of developing

offshore operations is almost entirely based on the Arctic region, to which the Sakhalin project

must be added. It now produces only 0.5 percent of oil production offshore, but hopes to increase

the share to 20 percent by 2020. Onshore, the Yamal peninsula alone could account for as much

as 200 bcm of gas production per year by 2020, and 360 bcm per year by 2030.8

USGS undiscovered gas

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USGS undiscovered oil

The Soviet Union was the largest oil producer in the world, with an oil peak at 569 million tons

per year, or 11.4 million barrels per day (mbd), in the late Soviet era. However, production

plunged by nearly 50 percent in the first half of the 1990s. Between 1999 and 2004, output shot

back up at a rate of 8.5 percent a year. Since then growth has slowed to 1.5 percent a year. In the

2000s, Russia was the world‘s second-largest producer of oil (after Saudi Arabia) and become

exceptionally the first in 2009, with a production of 9.9 mbd of oil.9 But its proven oil reserves

are estimated at 74 billion barrels, which amounts to 20 years worth of reserves and 5.6 percent

of global world reserves,10

while Saudi reserves are 264 billion barrels. Most of Russia‘s oil

resources are located in western Siberia (the Priobskoe, Prirazlomnoe, Mamontovskoe,

Malobalykskoe, and Surgut fields). In coming years, this western Siberian production will be

completed by output from Sakhalin, which is expected to contribute to most growth in Russia‘s

oil production in the near term. In the longer-term, untapped oil reserves in Eastern Siberia, the

Caspian Sea, and Sakhalin are expected to play a larger role.

However, the future looks difficult. The ―General Outline of Development of the Oil Sector of

the Russian Federation until 2020,‖ discussed at the end of 2010, concludes that the domestic oil

sector is at a critical stage. Without timely and fundamental reforms, Russia‘s oil output will fall

far short of what would be needed to meet growth targets—nearly 30 percent by 2020 and over

60 percent by 2030. The key conclusions are that the so-called brownfield renaissance of the first

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half of the 2000s is over, but that the resource base for further greenfield development is in

―critical condition.‖11

From now until 2030, Russian forecasts estimate an increase in production

of only 40 million tons, while the IEA predicts a decrease of 40 million tons.12

The picture for gas is more complex. Russia is the second largest natural gas producer after the

United States (19.3 trillion cubic feet or 546 billion cubic meters in 2009), the world‘s largest

exporter of gas (7.3 tcf in 2009 or about 206 bcm13

), and the foremost in terms of reserves with a

little less than 24 percent of proven world reserves (1,567 tcf or 44 tcm).14

However, Russian

production stagnated throughout the 2000s: the state corporation Gazprom, which has a

monopoly on export, sells less than 550 bcm per year, but its own production is in sharp decline,

and projected to be only 344 bcm in 2020. Only private companies like Novatek and Lukoil have

contributed to increasing volumes in recent years.15

In 2009, Russia‘s production reached the

lowest level since 1992, falling by more than 4 tcf or 17 percent year over year. Despite the

currently negative situation, Russian ambitions are substantial. With the Arctic deposits, the

Energy Strategy forecasts reaching 900 bcm of production by 2030. This goal was upwardly

adjusted to 1 trillion cubic meters, which is almost a doubling of production compared to 2010,

and includes investments of more than US$400 billion.16

The largest fields were discovered in the 1960s and put into operation in the 1970s in the

Yamalo-Nenets autonomous region, the world‘s largest natural gas producing area, which

accounts for approximately 90 percent of Russia‘s current natural gas production, 45 percent of

its total reserves, and 20 percent of the world‘s gas production. Since this date, the Russian gas

industry has centered on the super-giant fields in the Nadym Pur Taz region. The Urengoy,

Yamburg, and Medvezhye fields are responsible for over half of the Russian gas production.

They are linked to European Russian and Europe via about 50,000 kilometers of oil pipelines and

150,000 kilometers of gas pipelines. Since the 1990s, these three fields have faced a dramatic

decline of production, which the entry into operation of the Zapolyarnoe field, in the same

region, will partially offset. The exploitation of the large Arctic fields in Shtokman and the

Yamal Peninsula is very costly; Gazprom has systematically delayed these projects, preferring to

compensate for lack of production to meet European demand by investing in largely captive

markets in Central Asia.17

With the depletion of its Nadym Pur Taz fields, Russia will see its onshore hydrocarbon interests

move further north. The Medvezhye field, operated at mid-latitudes during the Soviet period, has

seen its exploitation move up to the Kara Sea. In the eastern part of the Barents Sea, some oil is

extracted from the Kolguev Island fields.18

But Gazprom has pinned all of its hopes to the Yamal

Peninsula and its adjacent offshore areas, which contain eleven gas and fifteen oil, gas, and

condensate fields, with approximately 16 trillion cubic meters (tcm) of explored and preliminary

estimated gas reserves and nearly 22 tcm of in-place and forecast gas reserves.19

The Yamal

reserves are therefore comparable to the volume of Gazprom‘s current gas supplies to the

domestic market.

In 2008, the Russian company launched the Yamal megaproject, which is supposed to enter into

initial operation in 2011-2012 with the Bovanenskoe deposit, which has estimated gas reserves

of 5 tcm. The main challenge of this project is the total absence of infrastructures on the

peninsula, but the deposits may be linked to the nearby Nadym Pur Taz network. Gazprom plans

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to build more than 12,000 kilometers of pipelines and 27 compressor stations, as well as the

Yamal-Europe gas pipeline, with a capacity of 33 bcm, going more than 4,000 kilometers to

Germany.20

If Arctic shipping develops, delivering LNG by tankers could ease pressure on

Russia‘s ageing overland pipeline system and mitigate the risks of building new pipelines on

melting permafrost.21

The adjacent offshore reserves will become a point of focus once the

onshore fields have peaked, probably in 2030.

With a Siberian Arctic shelf that stretches to 1,200 kilometers in width, Russia has a continental

shelf of 6.2 million square kilometers,22

without counting claims before the UN Commission on

the Limits of the Continental Shelf. The main fields that will be operated are therefore offshore.

The first among them will be the Prirazlomnoe oil field in the Pechora Sea, the southeastern part

of the Barents Sea. Located south of Novaya Zemlya, and about 60 kilometers from the shore of

the Varandey terminal, it has oil reserves of 610 million barrels. It could start production in

2011, more than a decade behind schedule due to major technical problems and multiple changes

of ownership. Oil will be exported via tanker, with storage and shipment structures in

Murmansk, Arkhangelsk, while the shipyard Sevmash will take care of repairs and testing of

equipment.23

Other licenses were awarded in the Pechora Sea, for example the Medynsko-

Varandey section with 163 million tons of oil recoverable reserves, and Kolokolmor and Pomor,

with 300 million tons.

Prirazlomnoe will likely be followed by the Shtokman gas field in the Barents Sea, one of the

world‘s largest natural gas fields, situated about 600 kilometers north of the Kola Peninsula. Its

reserves are estimated at 3.8 trillion cubic meters of natural gas and more than 37 million tons of

gas condensate, and it has a projected annual production of around 90 bcm of gas. It could meet

total European demand for seven years and is scheduled to produce for fifty. The site has four

platforms and about 150 production wells, among them forty completed subsea wells.24

The

Kremlin considers Shtokman to be one of its top priorities in coming years. If all technical

difficulties are overcome and world oil prices remain sufficiently high, Shtokman should enter

into production in the second half of the 2010s, in several phases, followed by the Ledov,

Ludlovsk, Fersmanov, Murmansk, Severo-Kildin, and Demidov satellite fields. The delays can

be explained by the global gas market conditions, but also by technological and logistical

challenges.

The ―Grey Zone‖ once in dispute between Norway and Russia is also very rich in hydrocarbons,

and the bilateral treaty on the delimitation of the Barents Sea, signed in 2010, lifted the

moratorium on exploration on the continental shelf that had been in place since the 1980s. It is

estimated that about 30 percent of all undiscovered Norwegian resources lie in the Barents Sea,25

especially in the Fedynsky High, in the southern part of the Barents Sea, which is believed to

contain the most promising resources (between 10 and 12 billion tons of oil).26

In the second half of the 2010s, the other fields of the Pechora Sera like Dolgin and Medin

should come online. The large fields in Ob–Tazov Bay (Sever-Kamennomys, Kamennomysskoe

More, Chugoryakhin, and Ob deposits), situated 40 kilometers from the coast, constitute a

specific case because of the extreme shallow water and its complex composition (half salt, half

fresh water).27

Some of these fields will be brought into production between 2015 and 2017 by

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Gazflot, the Gazprom subsidiary for offshore extraction. The large fields of the Kara Sea, with

potential reserves of 4 tcm—especially the massive Rusanov and Leningrad gas and condensate

fields, which may contain more hydrocarbons than the giant Shtokman—will not commence

production before 2030. Other deposits have been found on the Priyamal shelf: Nyarmey,

Skuratov, and Severo-Karasaev.

The reserves of the South Kara Sea, the EPNZ-1, EPNZ-2 and EPNZ-3 fields, are supposed to be

as rich as those in the North Sea. Rosneft chief executive Eduard Khudainatov stated that they

contained five billion tons of oil and 3,000 bcm of gas,28

but the very low exploration maturity

means these figures are incomplete and unconfirmed. The 2000 U.S. World Geological Survey

projected that the South Kara Sea had about seventy gas fields with a minimum size of 120

billion cubic feet gas (BCFG), and about twenty oil fields with a minimum size of 20 million

barrels of oil (MMBO).29

For these deposits, the possibility of Arctic shipping will play a central

role in the profitability of operation. In the future, the development of hydrocarbon deposits on

the Magadan shelf area and on the western Kamchatka sector of the Pacific Ocean is envisaged.30

For the East Siberia and Laptev Seas fields, no operating structure has been put into place yet.

6.2. The Costs and Risks of Arctic-Based Energy

In the global concert on this great ―Arctic bonanza,‖ a few dissenting voices can be heard.31

The

unreliability of information on Arctic hydrocarbons is too often ignored and many experts tend to

take U.S. Geological Survey estimates as conclusive, even though they are clearly labeled as

unconfirmed.32

Very little exploratory drilling has been conducted in the majority of potential

Arctic fields (and none in high latitudes), while seismic and acoustic tests and geologic modeling

cannot provide a basis for reliable estimates. The geological data for most offshore Russian

reserves are insufficient. Only the western part of the Arctic is well known, and according to

Bellona, even there only 9 to 12 percent of the Barents Sea reserves have been explored.33

Even

the figures advanced by Russian sources are contradictory: The 2007 Arctic scientific expedition

put forward figures five times smaller than what is usually estimated for the Barents and Kara

Seas (up to 48.8 billion barrels of oil).34

In any case, the exploitation of all of these Arctic fields will prove extremely technically

challenging. In 2006, Russia launched a ―Strategy for Exploring and Developing the Oil and Gas

Potential of the Continental Shelf of the Russian Federation until 2020.‖35

By this date, Russia

plans to build sixty new oilrigs and a larger number of submarine installations, but still needs

access to the know-how. For example, Shtokman demands the construction of ice-capable

production platforms in more than 300 meters of water. The site is still beyond the range of

helicopters, which poses significant problems for search and rescue systems, and is vulnerable to

seasonal pack ice and storms. The Prirazlomnoe platform is located in an area that is ice-free for

just 110 days a year, meaning the stationary platform must be ice-resistant.36

Numerous technical

issues have delayed the project for almost a decade. Both the Prirazlomnoe and Shtokman

structures necessitate taking into account icebergs and extreme wave heights. Nonetheless the

Barents Sea and Pechora Sea remain ―civilized‖ compared to the extreme climates that would

face other operations further east. For the time being Russia is far from possessing the necessary

know-how to imagine platforms in high latitudes.

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Drilling under extreme conditions requires specific equipment and knowledge. For the

Prirazlomnoe field, Sevmorneftegaz is working on a rig that will be capable of operating in

temperatures as low as minus 50 degrees Celsius and able to withstand the impact of ice packs.37

Despite this achievement, the Russian oil and gas industry still needs to catch up with its

Western competitors in terms of technology and expertise, particularly offshore, which is a

totally new domain for it. The large international majors are the most advanced: ExxonMobil is

building a new Arctic-class drilling rig, as well as ice-capable drill ships; while Shell plans to

build LNG plants that can operate in remote and environmentally sensitive areas, such as the

Arctic. Norwegian companies are also well specialized in Arctic drilling; Aker Drilling has

completed the construction of two semi-submersible drilling rigs capable of ultra-deep water

operation in harsh environments.38

The question of financing naturally follows. Russia already faces huge replacement costs for its

Soviet infrastructure. There has long been a lack of investment to upgrade its aging delivery

systems, in particular pipes, energy-inefficient processing plants, and old methods of extraction.

The cost of modernizing the entire energy infrastructure as it exists is therefore high. The

International Energy Agency calculated that Russia‘s energy industry would need to raise an

estimated 900 billion dollars over the next twenty-five years just to maintain current oil and gas

production levels.39

To this sum, Moscow must add the costs associated with Arctic exploration

and exploitation. Rosneft president Sergei Bogdanchikov calculated that developing Russia‘s

continental shelf would require 61 trillion rubles of investment through 2050.40

Part of these

investments needs to be made in the coming decade, but the returns will not be immediate. Some

fields will be operable around 2030, but those in high latitudes or very remote regions might not

be until 2050-2060. World oil and gas prices will also need to remain sufficiently high in order to

make these investments profitable: the costs of remoteness are high. Below 120 dollars a barrel,

the majority of Arctic deposits are not commercially recoverable, not even Shtokman. The IEA

calculates that the cost of exploiting Arctic resources is between 40 and 100 dollars per barrel,

while for Middle-Eastern reserves it is between 10 and 40.41

Further, Russian companies

typically utilize only 30-35 percent of the resources in each field and leave the rest, which is of

course extremely counter-productive.42

In addition, Russia‘s strategy assumes that hydrocarbons will continue to be in high demand in

the decades to come. In 2009, Russia exported 7 mbd of oil (including roughly 4 mbd of crude).

Of these, 80 percent were destined for European markets, particularly Germany and the

Netherlands, 12 percent for Asia, and 5 percent for the United States.43

The export infrastructure

that the Soviet Union built in the 1970s passes through Ukraine, Belarus, and Poland: the

Druzhba pipeline transported 55 million tons of oil in 2010, while the Black Sea pipeline

transported 46 millions tons. Post-Soviet Russia has built two new oil pipelines. In Europe, the

Baltic Pipeline System (BPS), which transports oil from the Timan-Pechora region, West Siberia

and Urals-Volga regions to the Gulf of Finland, carried about 70 million tons in 2009. In order to

gain additional capacity, a second pipeline is planned with a capacity of 50 million tons per year,

the BPS-2. In Asia, the Eastern Siberia-Pacific Ocean (ESPO) oil pipeline, more than 4,800

kilometers long, stretches from the Irkutsk region to the Pacific at Kozmino. It is designed to be

able to transport as much as 80 million tons per year. New oil loading terminals in the ports of

Nakhodka and De-Kastri, as well as coal terminals in the ports of Vanino and Vostochniy,

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opened in 2009.44

The Taishet-Kazachinskoe-Skovorodino-Kozmino route has been completed

by an extension to Daqing, China, inaugurated in 2010.

The Barents Sea Reserves

The state firm Transneft controls all Russian pipelines with the exception of the Caspian Pipeline

Consortium running from Tengiz to Novorossiisk, which has some private stakeholders. Russia

therefore has clearly more capacity than means and in the years to come some of its oil pipelines

will not be functioning at full capacity, unless they are filled with Kazakh oil. But the new

pipelines built have a strategic value: they bypass transit countries and therefore give Moscow a

new leverage over European demands.

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Russia exported more than7 tcf of natural gas in 2009, two-thirds of which went to Eastern and

Western Europe, and one-third to CIS countries.45

At the beginning of the 2000s, Moscow

wanted to supply the United States and Asia with LNG, but its strategies failed. Russian hopes of

a gas agreement with China have dragged for years and Moscow failed in its Chinese gas

strategy by trying the play the card of Japanese competition and refusing to fix a sale price,

which pushed Beijing to turn toward Central Asia. Concerning the United States, the ―shale gas

revolution‖ served to reduce that country‘s demand for LNG. American shale reserves, about 60

trillion cubic meters, are equivalent to about a century‘s worth of gas at current usage rates.46

Offshore projects like Shtokman, originally directed toward the United States, have therefore

been reoriented toward Europe, with new strategies intended to eliminate transit countries. Three

new gas pipelines, Nord Stream (55 bcm), South Stream (63 bcm) and Blue Stream (16 bcm),

were supposed to be fully operational by the end of the 2010s but some of them will be delayed,

or even put into question.47

In addition, the Central Asian gas on which Gazprom relies for

export has become increasingly expensive, especially as countries like Turkmenistan develop

export routes (mainly to China and Iran) that compete with Russia‘s former monopoly.48

Moreover, Europe‘s potential transition from fossil fuel to alternative sources of energy, the

growing LNG market, and the European will to reduce its dependency upon Moscow could

jeopardize Russia‘s prospects in the gas sector. Energy demand in China and India will mitigate

the decline of the European market and turn Russia increasingly toward Asia, even if the energy

partnership with Beijing is complex.49

But this geo-economic change will also come at a high

price, as Russia‘s gas fields and infrastructure are massively oriented toward Europe. Once

again, the reorientation toward Asia will entail massive investments and thus rising costs. New

production from the Yamal Peninsula and Shtokman is therefore crucial to satisfy both domestic

requirements and export consumers in coming years, but Gazprom risks being penalized for

delaying the necessary investments.50

Gazprom must therefore reflect on its long-term strategies:

pipelines to Europe come with a high capacity for political leverage, but the flows cannot be

redirected to new customers when the market declines. Hence Gazprom‘s interests have moved

in part to tanker-shipped LNG, which allows more flexibility, as is the case to some extent for

Sakhalin-2 and Shtokman.

Despite projected Asian demand, Russia has to prepare for a contingency involving a reduction

in overall world demand for oil and must diversify its portfolio to include more natural gas and

electricity.

6.3. Oil and Gas Companies: Patterns of Competition or Cooperation?

The potential that lies below ground in Russia whets the appetites of Russian state and private

companies, as well as foreign ones. To transform this potential into reality, the Kremlin will need

to successfully handle two contradictory patterns, one of cooperation and the other of exclusion.

It seeks to maintain control over its strategic wealth for purposes of sovereignty, but cannot

exploit these riches without massive foreign participation.

Russia must first of all improve its investment climate, which currently penalizes campaigns to

increase investments in the hydrocarbon sector. After the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991,

the Russian government ceased state funding of geological expeditions and domestic exploration

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capacity has been very limited since. The level of knowledge of new fields is therefore low. In

the 2000s the partly privatized exploration service Arktikshelfneftegaz returned under the control

of the federal agency for state property, and the budget for exploration is planned to grow from

25 million dollars in 2005 to 100 million in 2020.51

Very few exploration licenses have been

granted. Gazprom obtained one for the Dolgin oil field, in the Pechora Sea; Severneftegaz, which

Gazprom Neft and Novatek control, has three geological exploration licenses for the Kola

coast.52

In light of the costs of exploratory drilling in remote regions with practically no infrastructure,

Russian societies need foreign investments: an exploration well in a new region may cost 10-12

million dollars, as opposed to 3-4 million in a mature region.53

In the second half of the 2000s,

the Kremlin realized that the Russian fiscal regime was unattractive for foreign investments, and

that the exploration phase—a high-risk investment—needed to have more appealing terms. At

the end of 2007, Moscow decided to create incentives for foreign companies: longer exploration

license periods (from seven to ten years), a two-year exemption on some customs duties and

taxes, and a possible issuance of combined exploration and production licenses. The exploration

phase can indeed be of interest to foreign companies if they have a prospect of obtaining a

license in the case of positive results.54

However, an opposing pattern is also present. Since the beginning of the 2000s, Russia has

undergone a process that recentralized its oil and gas companies. Sibneft and Yukos returned to

state ownership, alongside well-known scandals. Russia reaffirmed its sovereignty over reserves,

forcing BP and Shell to renegotiate the terms for Sakhalin-2 and accept state-owned partners. In

Russia, the overall output of state companies rose from 4.8 percent in 2003 to 39.7 percent in

2008, while the share of private companies lowered from 72.6 to 43.9 percent.55

This process is

not a specific or unique one. National companies currently control about 80 percent of global

reserves, pushing international companies to compete or be marginalized from new deposits. The

world trend of increased state control over natural resources is becoming ascendant.56

In 2008, new legislation on ―foreign investment in strategic sectors‖ classified forty industries as

strategic to Russia‘s security.57

Ranging from arms, hydrocarbons, and precious metals to

agriculture, fishing, and seafood, it requires foreign companies to gain explicit permission from

governmental authorities in order to invest in more than a certain level of shares. In the energy

sector, resources classified ―of federal significance‖ (oil reserves of more than 70 million tons

and gas deposits of more than 50 bcm) cannot have foreign holdings of more than 50 percent.58

At almost the same time, the minister of natural resources announced that the exploitation of the

Arctic continental shelf would be reserved for state companies, namely Rosneft and Gazprom.

They will be able to enter into partnerships with foreign companies, but the latter will have their

holdings in an operating company, not the deposit itself. Russia has therefore separated access

from ownership through a so-called special purpose vehicle.59

Foreign companies, meanwhile, continue to actually calculate the assets acquired in Russia as

their deposits, although legally they do not own them. In theory, this makes it easier for them to

lose their access to these resources if the Russian government decides to conducts retroactive

operations. This measure also makes more complex the position of Russian private companies

such as Lukoil, TNK-BP, Surgutneftegas, and Novatek, which do not wish to finance geological

100

studies and drilling appraisal wells without having state guarantees of an exploration license.

They are therefore pushed to specialize in new technologies like LNG instead of in the raw

exploitation of the deposits.

However, despite this restrictive legislation, patterns of cooperation seem to be growing, if only

because, pragmatically, Russian companies cannot function without the know-how of their

foreign counterparts. The more Moscow favors LNG, the more it will need a technology-

intensive industry which can only become possible through international collaboration. The

Russian authorities have understood the negative impact that their new legislation is having on

foreign direct investment, and the global economic crisis of 2008 impeded their ambitions of

sovereignty and revived the need for foreign collaboration.60

Lastly, rising awareness about the

need to better control domestic consumption to free up a greater margin for export has also led to

a search for foreign partners to promote technology transfers.

Statoil and Norsk Hydro, which merged into Statoil in 2007, have exceptional knowledge of

deep-water oil drilling in Arctic regions due to their experiences with the Snøhvit and Ormen

Lange fields. ExxonMobil has its own experience in Alaska and Northern Canada. Shell is a

major player in the Athabasca oil sands project in northern Alberta.61

As for BP, it is a prominent

player in Alaska and has multiple agreements with Rosneft.62

The main Russian fields in the

―Arctic race‖ therefore have been shared among these players. Only Prirazlomnoe, Russia‘s first

offshore oil field in the Arctic, and the property of Gazprom Neft Shelf, has no foreign

participation. Western companies have declined to take part, finding the project too risky or not

commercially attractive. For the Yamal megaproject, Gazprom is the only owner of the site, but

is increasingly cooperating with Novatek, Russia‘s largest private gas producer, which holds 51

percent of the Yamal LNG plant. In 2011, Novatek singed a partnership agreement with Total,

Europe‘s third-largest oil company, under which Total will buy 12 percent of Novatek. This

comes out to control of 20 percent of the Yamal LNG project, or about one billion barrels of

proven and probable reserves. The LNG will be produced in 2016 and transported by tanker.63

The three major sites under development—Shtokman, South Kara Sea, and Sakhalin—all have

foreign participation. In 2007, Statoil and Total signed an operation agreement with Gazprom

and its wholly owned subsidiary Sevmorneftegaz, Shtokman‘s owner. Total controls 25 percent

and Statoil, 24 percent of the Shtokman Development AG company. The majority of natural gas

produced there will be sold to Europe. A portion will flow via the Nord Stream pipeline, going

from the field to the Murmansk region, and further via the Kola Peninsula to Volkhov in the

Leningrad region, while the other part will be liquefied in an LNG plant to be constructed at

Teriberka on the Kola Peninsula.64

The gas production for the pipeline might start in 2016 and

LNG production in 2017; however the state of international markets, technical difficulties, and

cost overages have rendered the project vulnerable.65

However, the elements that move in favor

of its exploitation are not limited to commercial profitability but are also geopolitical. Shtokman

is a major element of Russian-Norwegian partnership. Gazprom urgently needs to address the

drop in production from the Nadym Pur Taz fields, while Norway needs to diversify away from

the increasingly depleted hydrocarbon resources of the North Sea.66

Already well established in Russia, since 2011 BP has become a key partner of the state oil

company Rosneft. A new Arctic Cooperation Agreement has reinforced the alliance between the

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two companies that already managed TNK-BP, which exploits deposits in West Siberia, the

Volga-Urals, and East Siberia.67

The two companies collaborate on oil and gas exploration in

Sakhalin, especially in the Kaigansky-Vasukansky block. The presence of BP in Russia has

diversified into other sectors, including aviation fuels, lubricants, and special fluids, as well as

their supply to the international shipping industry through the Baltic Petroleum joint venture with

Lukoil. The 2011 agreement for the South Kara Sea exploitation can be added to a long list of

partnerships that includes the project to make Rosneft a future partner in Ruhr Oel GmbH

(ROG), which owns four German refining and petrochemical complexes. A wider Arctic

Protocol also exists between the two companies for deposit exploration in the East Siberia and

Chukotka fields.68

On the continental shelf of the Sea of Okhotsk, joint operation between Russian and foreign

companies became the source of much attention after Moscow used allegations of environmental

violations to force the international consortium to sell 50 percent of shares plus one to Gazprom.

Despite this major incident, cooperation is progressing. ExxonMobil, ONGC (Indian Oil and

Natural Gas Corporation), and Rosneft affiliates operate Sakhalin-1 (Chayvo, Odoptu, and

Arkutun-Dagi fields); while Shell, Mitsui, a Mitsubishi subsidiary, and Gazprom work on

Sakhalin-2 (Piltun-Astokhskoe oil field and the Lunskoe natural gas field). The Sakhalin-1

project involves the construction of a 220-kilometer pipeline across the Tatar Strait to the De-

Kastri oil terminal, while Sakhalin-2 includes the first LNG plant in Russia; both are crucial for

Moscow‘s capacities to reach East Asian markets.69

Since 2010, the Indian state owned ONGC,

which controls about 20 percent of shares of Sakhalin-1, is in negotiation with Bashneft to

participate in the operation of the Trebs and Titov fields. These sites are among the most

promising in the Timan-Pechora province with reserves estimated at 78.9 million tons (578

million barrels) and 63.4 million tons (465 million barrels) of oil respectively. 70

Finally in 2011,

Wintershall will be able to access some of the Urengoy fields, in exchange for which Gazprom

will participate in North Sea projects with its German counterpart.71

Balance must also be struck between Russian companies. The failed merger between the two

major ones, Gazprom and Rosneft, in 2005 created tensions within the ruling elite with personal

interests in each, and the two companies have had to learn to share the market. Their official

domains of competence, Gazprom for gas and Rosneft for oil, tend to overlap increasingly with

the offshore fields. Rosneft will for instance extract the gas from Sakhalin, while Gazprom has a

monopoly on its export. Geographical distributions—Gazprom in the Barents Sea and Rosneft in

the Far East—are also becoming less relevant. Both have deposits to exploit in the Kara Sea and

seek new ones in the Okhotsk Sea. In the Barents Sea, Rosneft is currently upgrading the oil

terminal in Arkhangelsk.72

Their relationship is an important element of the internal balance in

Russia, with direct implications on the political consensus among elites. Some private companies

such as Lukoil, TNK-BP, Novatek, Gunvor, and Surgutneftegas also play a not insignificant role

in the distribution of dividends from oil and gas among elites. They are becoming increasingly

aggressive in the conquest of new markets through more innovative policies and greater

openness to international cooperation.

Growing operations at fields in fragile ecological areas, onshore or off, comes with

environmental worries. The Arctic Monitoring and Assessment Program, established to

implement components of the Arctic Environmental Protection Strategy, studied multiple links

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between hydrocarbons exploitation and environmental risks, ranging from oil spills to changes in

the migration of marine mammals.73

Aging Soviet-era infrastructure also poses increased risks,

as the big oil spill of 1994 in the Komi Republic demonstrated. International legislation such as

UNCLOS, the International Convention for the Prevention of Pollution from Ships (MARPOL

73/78), and the Convention for the Protection of the Marine Environment in the North-East

Atlantic (OSPAR), regulates offshore drilling platforms (for instance, they cannot interfere with

navigational freedom in recognized sea lanes), obliges companies to partly remove structures

once fields are exhausted, and minimize the accidental discharge of harmful substances and

marine pollution.74

However the risks remain very significant; and the World Wildlife Fund has

called for a moratorium on new offshore oil development in the Arctic until the gap in oil spill

response is filled.75

6.4. The Arctic as a Mineral Eldorado?

The subsoil and continental shelf of Arctic regions are also rich in non-ferrous and precious

minerals: zinc, copper, tin, nickel, diamonds, gold, and silver, among others. As with

hydrocarbons, estimates are difficult to extrapolate into confirmed figures, but some suppose that

90 percent of the world‘s reserves of nickel and cobalt, 60 percent of copper, and 96 percent of

platinum is in the Arctic, mainly in Russia and Northern Canada, and partly in Alaska.76

In

Russia, gold and silver can be found near the Taimyr Peninsula and in the northern part of

Yakutia; apatites in the Kola Peninsula, Taimyr Peninsula, Yakutia, and Chukotka; nickel and

copper around Norilsk and the Kola Peninsula; tungsten in northern Yakutia and Chukotka;

manganese in Novaya Zemlya; and tin, chromium, and titanium in Yakutia. Coal deposits in the

Arctic are not likely to be exploited as coal is among the most widely found minerals in the

world, and one of the cheapest. 77

Sakha-Yakutia is already well known for its diamond mines: 90 percent of all Russian diamonds

and 24 percent of gold is mined in Yakutia. The state company Alrosa is the largest diamond

producer in the world and Russia is second in sales after South Africa. The Kola Peninsula is

particularly rich in its endowment due to geological reasons dating from the second ice age.

There are large quantities of metals, from apatites to aluminum, while its subsurface has

titanium, rare metals, ceramic raw materials, mica, and precious stones. The northern part of the

peninsula has huge deposits of nickel and also contains large reserves of precious stones like

amazonite and amethyst.78

This subsoil wealth has a huge potential value, but figures are difficult to calculate because the

price of extraction is partly unknown and, like hydrocarbons, profitability depends on world

prices. The Soviet Union explored the Arctic subsoil since the 1930s. From the second half of

that decade, Gulag mines in Vorkuta and Norilsk allowed the country to benefit from minerals

necessary for its massive industrialization. Today, more than 25 mines are still operating in the

Russian Arctic.79

The main one, the Norilsk-Talnakh, is the largest nickel-copper-palladium

deposit in the world. The current resource known for these mineralised intrusion exceeds

1.8 billion tons. The adjacent town of Norilsk is classified as one of the world‘s ten most

polluted cities.

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Industrial Activities in the Arctic

Privatized at the beginning of the 1990s, Norilsk Nickel later merged with Severonickel and

Pechenganickel from the Kola Peninsula to create one of the world‘s largest mining societies. It

is now the largest world producer of nickel and palladium and a leading producer of platinum

and copper. It also produces various by-products, such as cobalt, chromium, rhodium, silver,

gold, iridium, ruthenium, selenium, tellurium, and sulfur.80

Norilsk Nickel plays a major role in

Russian agriculture: three-quarters of the phosphate fertilizer in the country is manufactured

from apatite concentrate from the Khibiny deposit on the Kola Peninsula. Nepheline is used in

the manufacture of soda and potash for the chemical industry. Enormous quantities of soda are

required to produce alumina from bauxite and for making glass.81

In coming decades, deep seabed mining, which is very technically challenging, will likely be

considered. A major unknown is the future role of Russia in rare earth metals. There are

seventeen such metals (tantalum, niobium, lanthanum, cerium, dysprosium, terbium lutetium,

etc.), used in technological applications, especially green energy products. A whole generation of

104

technological progress depends on their supply. The main accessible concentrations of the rare

earth metals are found in China, where more than 95 percent of production currently takes place.

Aware of its leverage, Beijing has drastically reduced the amount of rare earths available for

export since 2010. But with the second largest explored rare earth reserves in the world, maybe

the first in terms of potential reserves, Russia could challenge this monopoly.82

Moscow did not plan to develop rare earth mines until 2030, but international pressure,

especially from Japanese firms, has become more urgent. Russia has two main deposits. The

Lovozersk mine, in the northern Murmansk region, has an estimated 80 million tons of ore

reserves that can be surface-mined. It could produce a wide range of rare earths, especially the

very uncommon eudiyalite, but for now focuses on magnesium production. The Tomtor deposit

in Yakutia has an exceptional level of rare earth content in its ore, 12 percent. Its proven reserves

amount to 150 million tons and the possible reserves come close to exceeding all the rest of the

world‘s reserves combined. The apatite ore of the Kola Peninsula, today used to produce

phosphorus fertilizers, could also contain rare earth metals.83

Hydrocarbons are therefore far from being the only source of the Arctic subsoil wealth. Moscow

could be enriched not only from oil and gas, but also from ores, especially rare earth metals, the

future of which may be more stable in terms of price and use than oil. The Arctic is additionally

home to living resources like vast marine fauna.

6.5. The Revival of the Fishing Industry

Among the major resources traded all over the world, fish is often a forgotten figure in statistics,

even while it occupies a growing place in commerce. Between 1976 and 2006, the global trade

volume in tons of fish quadrupled, from 7.9 to 31 million tons.84

Increasing world population,

improving diet, changes in Western eating patterns, emerging middle classes in China, Japanese

passion for seafood, and improved freezing techniques have helped to internationalize a once

regional market and account for this growth. But this success does not come without risk: 75

percent of straddling and high seas fish stocks are overexploited or even depleted.85

Some

common species like tuna and cod are endangered in many habitats.

But fishing is also a crucial geopolitical issue. The prices that Asian gourmets are willing to pay

for some rare fish, as with Bering crab in the West, promote illegal, unregulated, and unreported

(IUU) fishing, and aggressive behavior between vessels. Furthermore, fishing is not only

profitable, but an industry that provides jobs. This is essential for countries like Norway or

Japan, where the protection of jobs is a crucial component of public policies. Several conflicts

between fishing vessels, which appear harmless, have degenerated into open diplomatic conflict,

even within the European Union or in nearby countries such as Norway and Iceland. The risks of

conflict are even more numerous in Asia, where Japanese, Chinese, and South Korean ships are

willing to take huge risks to bring back large catches.86

Issues of international governance are

key. International law and the numerous existing fisheries agreements must take both soft and

hard security issues into account, combine the interests of coastal states with those of new

outsiders, and make decisions using information on fish stocks that is sometimes incomplete or

disputed.87

105

Finally, climate change alters the situation and reveals new uncertainties. Fish stocks can a priori

adapt to climate change as well as some pollution, but the transformation of marine ecosystems

means that they will move further north with warmer waters, into new areas where bilateral

regulations no longer apply. In addition, melting ice could open new areas to unregulated fishing.

At present, the Arctic‘s share in global fisheries has been stable at 4 percent between 1975 and

2006, equaling 3.5 million tons per year.88

But these figures may increase. Cod in the Barents

Sea and pollock in the Russian Far East represent roughly 25 percent of the global catch of

whitefish. Moreover, polar invertebrates represent a valuable resource for the chemical and

pharmaceutical sectors, which is growing worldwide, especially in Asia.

Due to the importance of its exclusive economic zone, the Soviet Union has always been a major

player in the world fishing industry. Since the 1950s, the USSR sought to develop industrial

fishing to compensate for the insufficiencies of its animal breeding. The catch reached a total of

10.3 million tons in 1975, putting Russian in second place overall behind Japan. In the 1990s,

however, the Russian fisheries collapsed; the fleets were divided up and partially privatized. It

took until 2010 for 1991 levels to be reached; with 4.1 million tons of fish caught, contemporary

Russia places sixth in world catch rankings.89

This amounts to only 4-5 percent of total world

catch, but does not include fish caught illegally. The Russian Federal Fisheries Agency

(Rosrybolovstvo) hopes to reach 4.7 million tons in 2014.90

Three-quarters of fish caught is in

territorial, internal, and EEZ waters of Russia, while the reported catches in the EEZs of foreign

states represent only 15 percent and high seas catches 10 percent.91

In contrast to the Soviet

period, during which the trawlers were used to sailing throughout the world, in particular as far

as Africa and Latin America, Russian industrial fishing is today limited to its national waters, as

the trawlers are too old and fuel-inefficient to sail the high seas. Pressures on stocks in the

Russian EEZ have therefore increased dangerously.92

According to existing definitions, the marine Russian zone in the Arctic includes several

ecosystems, but overall consists of two eco-regions, the Bering and Barents seas. The

geographical distribution of catches breaks down to about 40 percent in the northeast Atlantic

Ocean, mainly in the Barents Sea, and 56 percent in the northwest Pacific Ocean, mostly in the

Bering and Okhotsk Seas. The most important unloading ports in the Pacific are Vladivostok and

Nakhodka, followed by Nevelsk, Korsakov, Magadan, and Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskii; in the

Atlantic region they include Murmansk, Arkhangelsk, and Belomorsk.93

In the Barents Sea, Russian fishing is regulated by the Russian-Norwegian Fisheries

Commission, which was created for this area to replace the Northeast Atlantic Fisheries

Convention, and by the Grey Zone Agreement, which disappeared with the 2010 bilateral treaty.

Russian-Norwegian cooperation is considered successful in terms of the reasonable management

of stocks of Atlantic cod and the Norwegian spring-spawning herring. Quotas are equally split

between the two countries and both exchange extensive scientific information, make their stocks

public, and even give some access to Barents Sea fisheries to some non-coastal states.94

Moscow

and Oslo follow annual quotas as recommended by the International Council for the Exploration

of the Sea.95

Thanks to that, their cod stocks are considered among the healthiest on the planet,

although illegal fishing is also practiced, especially on the Russian side.96

106

This cooperation has also been successful in resolving tensions between the two countries that

were once regular. In 1998, 2001, 2005, and 2007, the Norwegian Coast Guard seized Russian

trawlers fishing illegally in the Fisheries Protection Zone off the Svalbard archipelago. All of

these incidents were resolved peaceably, although in 2001, Moscow responded to the seizure in

contested waters of the trawler Chernigov by deploying the Severomorsk warship. In 2005, the

Russian trawler Elektron refused to be subjected to arrest when caught by the Norwegian coast

guard and ―kidnapped‖ the coast guards by coming back with them to Russian waters.97

These local tensions, however, have never degenerated into conflict. Some problems are

probably still unresolved, as the territorial treaty that Moscow and Oslo signed in 2010 has

alarmed Russian fishermen. The two main associations, the Association of Seafood Industries,

Entrepreneurs, and Exporters and the Council of Fishing Industry Workers, protested. They

argued that the treaty undermines rights under the Russian-Norwegian Fisheries Commission and

forbid them from fishing in waters that were once common but now Norwegian (the western part

of the former Loophole).98

But this view is not unanimous: the Russian Federal Fisheries Agency

stated, on the contrary, that the bilateral agreement and the continuation of the joint Fisheries

Commission bore out support for Russia‘s fishing interests.99

It is likely that tensions between

Russian and Norwegian fishing vessels will not disappear in coming years, but the mechanisms

of peaceful resolution are operational and cooperation prevails on both sides.

In the Bering Sea, the tensions are more numerous and could degenerate more rapidly, as there

are fewer mechanisms of peaceful resolution. Despite the absence of a definitive legal resolution,

fishing is not a cause of major tensions between Russia and the United States. The two countries

encompass 92 percent of the Bering Sea within their territorial waters and EEZs. The section

between, the Central Bering Sea, is known as ―the Donut Hole,‖ and is considered international

waters,100

much like the ―Peanut Hole‖ in the Sea of Okhotsk. An agreement signed in 1992

concerning the regulation of fisheries in high seas beyond each EEZ enables both countries to

take advantage of the sea‘s fish stocks.

However, the Bering Sea, one the most dangerous places in the world to fish, is extremely

profitable. On the U.S. side, commercial fisheries catch approximately one billion dollars worth

of seafood annually, while Russian Bering Sea fisheries are worth approximately US$600

million each year.101

In terms of the geopolitics of fishing, the area is significant. Over half of the

seafood consumed in the United States comes from the Bering Sea and American fishermen are

sometimes tempted to leave U.S. waters to monitor the crab stocks in Russian waters;102

while

for Russian fishermen, command over Asian markets is very enticing. A veritable black market

of Alaskan pollock and Bering crab, among others, exists between the Russian Far East, Japan,

South Korea, and China. It is estimated that illegal fishing and poaching accounts for over half of

the fish caught on the Russian side of the Bering Sea.103

For Russia, many issues are related to fisheries, from food self-sufficiency to industrial revival

and export possibilities. Like Europeans, Russians consume more fish, but it remains mostly

imported. The populations of the Pacific façade have access to some local catch from the Russian

trawlers, but the European zones of the country mainly eat deep-frozen exported products. Thus

support for the revitalization of national fisheries could help to improve food self-sufficiency.

The Asian market is also promising since it is growing exponentially and could bring

107

considerable revenues for Russian fishermen. For now, Moscow is selling raw materials to

Chinese processing plants, which then sell the finished product in Korea or Japan. The

development prospects of domestic agribusiness are therefore important, especially in the Far

East. Finally, the fishing industry directly employs over 100,000 people and likely around one

million indirectly, a blessing that the Kremlin wants to preserve, especially since fishing lobbies

are powerful in the Far East and Kamchatka Peninsula.104

But this assumes that the fleet is nearly entirely renewed. In the 1990s, state investment in the

fisheries collapsed, exacting a heavy toll. The Russian fleet plummeted by half: today it includes

only 2,500 fishing vessels, fifty floating plants, and nearly four hundred transport ships.105

Two-

thirds of fishing vessels still in operation no longer conform to safety standards and have

exceeded their legal life span. They lack the capacity to fish off the coast in high seas and

modern catching and freezing equipment. The privatized fishing companies, which buy their

vessels abroad, do not have enough finances to renew their trawler fleets, whereas the state-run

fleets are used to getting everything from through state subsidies. According to the director of

Russian Federal Fisheries Agency, four hundred Russian vessels can take as many fish as sixty-

two Norwegian vessels.106

For Moscow, the modernization of an aging fleet is no longer on the

agenda; the goal is to renew it entirely. But here again, the necessary investments are slow to

arrive. The first steps were taken in 2010, with official orders to the shipyards to build vessels

equipped with modern technology, but currently only a few units have been commissioned.107

Major legislative activity is also ongoing. The State Committee for Fisheries, allegedly very

corrupt, has been through several administrative reorganizations, but with little success. In 2003,

the Duma ratified a concept for the development of the fishing industry of the Russian

Federation until 2020. In 2004, the fisheries administration was recentralized. In 2007, the State

Committee for Fisheries was restored as a specific institution and placed under the control of the

government, rather than the Ministry of Agriculture.108

In 2008, fish and seafood were placed on

the list of ―strategic resources.‖ Laws were also amended in 2010; hitherto, Russian ships were

asked to complete custom clearance for fish caught in the Russian EEZ, which had the effect of

forcing the trawlers to unload at sea or in ports in Europe.109

The Russian trawlers, however,

continue to try to sell their catch abroad, for higher prices. Overfishing in the Russian EEZ also

has to be combated. Beginning in 2011, there has been open discussion of creating a state fishing

corporation to centrally manage the need to modernize the fleet and processing plants.110

A bill

to promote aquaculture is also being studied.111

There are thus many possibilities, but they

demand clear political and financial choices.

*****

As in other sectors of its economy, the prospects in the Russian Arctic are paradoxical. They

presuppose a favorable combination of elements over which Moscow does not have leverage—

world prices for hydrocarbons and minerals, the development of energy competition, laws

protecting endangered fish stocks, and the state of demand in Europe and Asia—and domestic

capabilities that were largely destroyed or rolled back in the 1990s. For the oil and gas industries

as well as minerals extraction and fishing, existing infrastructure must be upgraded and new

operations developed ad hoc. The cost is therefore double: maintaining Soviet infrastructures

while creating new logistics for the twenty-first century.

108

As in the strategic domain, Russia‘s position on the economic opportunities that the Arctic

provides has two faces. Cooperation with foreign countries is in its interests, but the fear of

losing sovereignty sometimes offsets it. However, the prospect of profitability in economic

pursuits tips the scale in favor of international cooperation. No Russian offshore oil and gas

fields can be developed by Gazprom and Rosneft alone. Although onshore fields are less open,

technological needs, for instance in LNG, require the entry of foreign players, as seen on the

Yamal Peninsula. For fisheries, the modernization of the fleet cannot be achieved without the

purchase of technology from abroad. Despite regular tensions between trawlers, Moscow

maintains constructive joint-fishery relations with Norway and the United States. At present,

only the area of mineral extraction is immune from massive foreign presence. But as it is based

on exports, this sector also pushes Russia to open.

Moscow sees the Arctic as a large part of its economic future. Compared with rising powers like

China and India, and in light of its delay in terms of technological knowledge, its great power

status depends on its increased ability to exploit the riches of the Arctic with foreign partners.

Widespread among ruling elites, the impression that the Arctic is a ―no other choice‖ policy for

Russia‘s future only renders the stakes more critical and sensitive. The strategic choice between

resource nationalism and foreign cooperation will have large-scale consequences on the political,

institutional, and economic future of the country.

Key Findings and Pathways to the Future

Russia benefits from uncommon subsoil wealth. While Russian predominance in oil resources is

not assured, as North America is also well endowed, it is a clear leader in terms of gas reserves

and rare minerals, especially rare earth metals.

Russia has the potential to transform its reserves into actual output, which would give it a

significant geopolitical advantage: the ability to maintain great power status in energy and

minerals, and the capacity to delay its economic transformation from an energy-based economy

toward a knowledge-based and service one.

However, the factors that will determine whether this potential becomes reality are partly outside

of Moscow‘s control, including the world price of hydrocarbons and minerals, growth of energy

competition, alternative energies, and the state of demand in Europe and Asia.

It is therefore necessary to consider that the Arctic fields might not be profitable to operate in

coming decades, which would cause Moscow to lose significant revenue, limit its geopolitical

ambitions, and weaken Russia‘s public finances, especially if large-scale investments were

undertaken.

In any case, Russia will continue to combine patterns of exclusion and cooperation, but seems to

give priority to the latter because the potential for energy sector profits is at stake.

109

The current focus on oil and gas tends to obscure sectors that could be more powerful over the

long term: minerals, rare earth metals, uranium, and hydroelectricity production.

Even if it is partial, the increasing use of Arctic regions multiplies security risks. The most

serious are small-scale conflicts over fields in the western part of the Arctic, the collision of

hydrocarbons extraction structures and the military vessels of one or more countries, clashes

between Russian, American, and Asian fishing vessels, and the growing smuggling to fish stocks

to Asian markets.

A powerful Russia based on ―Arctic-resource‖ nationalism must be included among the

scenarios put forward in strategic planning; however, there is little chance that it will come to

pass. Either Moscow will be unable to meet the enormous investments required and expected

profitability will not come about, or it will have to change its patterns of threat perception and

open itself more widely to international cooperation.

110

7. THE NORTHERN SEA ROUTE. INTERNATIONAL AND DOMESTIC SHIPPING

ISSUES

The question of sea lines of communication, that is, maritime routes between ports used for

either for trade, logistics, or military forces, constitutes an important element of state security

and of the global geopolitical (im)balance. American supremacy on the seas, for example, is

considered a central component of U.S. global security. Control of the main straits of Hormuz,

Malacca, Gibraltar, and the Bosporus, of the choke points between the Atlantic, Pacific, and

Arctic Oceans, and of the Suez and Panama canals makes it possible to exert pressure on certain

states and to privilege others. Given that three-quarters of world trade is done via sea and given

the new factors of instability, such as piracy, the oceans have once again become an important

element of geopolitics after having been somewhat forgotten at the end of the Cold War. The

prospect of new sea lines of communication in the Arctic thus takes on special significance.

The Northwest Passage runs from the Bering Strait through the Alaskan and Canadian coasts,

coming out at the Atlantic between Labrador and Greenland. It therefore makes it possible to

pass from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific Ocean without going through the Panama Canal or

having to go around Cape Horn. The Northeast Passage links both oceans along the Russian

coast without a detour through the Suez Canal or the Cape of Good Hope. A third potential sea

line, a high-latitude one, crosses though the middle of the Arctic Ocean, connecting Eurasia to

North America. The melting of the icecap, however, is more limited on the Canadian side than it

is on the Russian one. Russia will therefore be the first country to be concerned by the prospect

of an ice-free Arctic. Since 2007, its navigation season during which the presence of an

icebreaker is no longer necessary has extended to two whole months, at least in theory. In August

2008, both the Northeast and Northwest passages were open for the first time in recorded history.

Depending upon the calculation methods and upon still unknown climate evolutions, forecasts

fluctuate considerably concerning the prospect of navigating in ice-free waters. It is possible that

the Arctic Ocean will be ice-free in summer as early as 2015. Up to four months of navigation

without an icebreaker would become foreseeable in the decades to come. An eventual

disappearance of the summer ice will mean that the hard, multi-year ice will disappear, and that

parts of the Arctic will have conditions more similar to those in the Baltic Sea today.1 More

modestly, the Arctic Monitoring and Assessment Programme (AMAP) foresees a summer

shipping season along Russia‘s coasts extending from the current 30 days to an estimated 90 to

100 days by 2080. In any case, it will probably still take around twenty to thirty years until

conditions become suitable for regular transits. Large-scale, year-round transit operations will

barely be possible until the ice cover disappears for most of the year, and this does not seem

realistic until at least forty to sixty years from now.2 However, private shipping companies and

many states, coastal or otherwise, are following closely the still-potential race for the new Arctic

sea lane. For Russia, the stakes are multiplied, as the Northeast Passage is not only a

communication line open to foreign trade but a strategic domestic issue, a key component of the

development of Siberia and of the Arctic regions.

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7.1. Sovereignty Issues in the Russian Arctic Straits

The legal status of the straits is extremely complex, and depends on the classification of the

waters, the status of the archipelagos crossed, the access points to other seas, the question of

whether, historically, these waters were internal ones or were used for international navigation,

etc. To the International Maritime Organization‘s legislation, the 1982 Law of the Sea

Convention adds that the regulations for straits used for international navigation are subordinate

to those of ice-covered areas.3 Coastal states can impose limitations when the ice increases the

risks of accident or of pollution. Of the three Arctic sea lines of communication, only the third,

the so-called Arctic bridge, situated at a high latitude, presents no important legal problems, as it

crosses mainly international waters not subject to any state sovereignty. The other two are

problematic since the viewpoints of the sovereign states concerned, Canada and Russia, both of

which claim that these straits are historically national ones. They are opposed to the rest of the

international community, in particular the United States, which argues that they are international

waters. In both cases, the passages would be open to foreign commercial traffic, but state

prerogatives are more significant if they are recognized as national straits. The state has the right

to apply ―special conditions‖ in accordance with ice coverage and particularly in cases of severe

climate conditions. Ships must give advanced notification, apply for guidance, and comply with

national laws. In the second case, that of international waters, all ships have a right of transit

passage without having to ask for the authorization of any specific instance, and the state

concerned by their passage can only enforce fishing and environmental regulations, fiscal and

smuggling laws, as well as laws intended for the safety of shipping.4

112

The Canadian debate with its American neighbor over the Northwest Passage has shaped

Canadian public opinion since the 1960s, but the polemic has intensified recently with the media

focus on the Arctic. U.S. vessels and nuclear submarines are used to traveling unannounced

through Canadian Arctic waters, but the trip of the U.S. icebreaker Polar Sea in 1985 resulted in

a diplomatic incident. Ottawa regularly makes unilateral declarations of sovereignty over the

Northwest Passage, but they do not have any legal value in themselves. The issue seems above

all a symbolic one: relations between the United States and Canada are good, and both are

committed to North American continental security and defense in the NATO framework.

Moreover, Canadian military presence in the High Arctic waters was possible only thanks to

U.S. icebreakers (the last Canadian icebreaker, the Labrador, was decommissioned in 1987, but

a new one is under construction). Both countries have signed the 1988 Agreement on Arctic

Cooperation, which resolves the practical issues but provides no solutions for sovereignty

questions. However, the importance of the Northwest Passage for Canadian nation-building and

U.S. arguments for free circulation in world seas reduce the possibilities of compromise.5

Russia also has to confront international protests concerning its perception of the Northeast

Passage as an internal water strait. In contrast with the Canadian situation, this route, called the

Northern Sea Route in Russian (NSR, or Sevmorput‘), has been chiefly used by Russia only. The

route was travelled from one end to the other for the first time in 1878-1879 by the Swede Otto

Nordenskjöld, and then again in 1893 by the Norwegian Fridtjof Nansen. At the start of the

twentieth century, the use of icebreakers opened up new possibilities, such as the hydrographic

expedition of the Glacial Arctic Ocean in 1905. The Sevmorput‘ reached its peak in the Soviet

period. Commercial navigation became regular along it in the second half of the 1930s, thanks to

Stalinist voluntarism in developing the High North, in large part by the Gulag penitentiary

workforce. The route was used during the Second World War to reinforce Soviet convoy escorts

to the North Atlantic, and was more intensely developed during the Cold War decades with the

multiplication of surveillance stations, missile launching bases, and polar military aerodromes.

Moscow defines the Northern Sea Route as ―a historically existing national unified transport

route of the Russian Federation in the Arctic,‖6 and therefore considers it to be under its

exclusive jurisdiction. Although Russia‘s Arctic coastlines stretch over more than 14,000

kilometers across the Barents, White, Kara, Laptev, and East Siberian seas, the Sevmorput‘ is

stricto sensu localized between the ports of Kara, at the western entry of the Novaya Zemlya

straits, and Providentia Bay, at the southern opening of the Bering Strait, which is a total of

5,600 kilometers. The Barents Sea is therefore not a constitutive part of the Sevmorput‘ legal

regime. This latter includes the passage of close to 60 straits, the main ones being the Vilkitski,

Shokalski, Dmitri Laptev, and Sannikov Straits, running through three archipelagos, Novaya

Zemlya, Severnaya Zemlya, and the New Siberian Islands.7 Moreover, the legal definition is

made more complex as there is not a single shipping channel, but multiple lanes, and the NSR

crosses through waters of different status: internal, territorial, and adjacent waters, exclusive

economic zone, and the open sea. Indeed the course of the route depends upon whether the ship

crosses close to the coastlines or further out, or chooses or not to bypass Severnaya Zemlya. In

1978, a Soviet cargo ship escorted by an icebreaker passed north of New Siberian Islands, in

high Arctic seas, confirming that the straits can be avoided in suitable ice conditions. As a result

of accumulated pack ice in the straits, the Route may include sea lanes that are situated beyond

113

Russia‘s 200-nautical mile EEZ, but which Moscow continues to regard as under its

jurisdiction.8

Moscow also tried to play on the legal difference between internal and territorial waters.9 In

1985, the Soviet Union drew straight baselines along its Arctic coastline, totaling more than

400,10

the majority being situated within the 12 miles of territorial waters from the archipelagos.

Waters enclosed by baselines are conventionally assimilated to internal waters without any right

of innocent passage for foreign ships, but the 1958 convention on the territorial sea, to which the

Soviet Union is a signatory member, stipulates that the right of innocent passage continues to

apply to internal waters that were once territorial waters or part of the high seas.11

This process

of territorialization of the Soviet Arctic waters also led Moscow to decree the White Sea, the

Kara Sea, and part of the Barents Sea as Soviet internal waters, which it already did for the

Laptev and East Siberian seas. However, the international community did not accept this

decision. No legal text had set a precedent for this definition, and Soviet practice did not enforce

sovereignty by requiring ships or planes to request permission to enter this part of the sea or the

air space above it.12

The first offer to open the Northern Sea Route to international shipping was made by Moscow

early in 1967, without ever becoming a reality. The offer was repeated in 1987 by Mikhail

Gorbachev in his Murmansk speech, and the route formally opened to foreign users in 1991, just

a few months before the collapse of the Soviet Union. The norms for using the route were laid

down in the Regulations for Navigation on the Seaways of the NSR (1991), the Guide for

Navigation through the NSR, and the Regulations for the Design, Equipment and Supply of

Vessels Navigation in the NSR (1995). Today, Russia has every interest in transforming the

Sevmorput‘ into a sea line of communication that is open to foreign trade. The maintenance of its

own Arctic fleet, in particular of the icebreakers, is extremely costly, and additional revenues are

therefore welcome. The more that international navigation grows, the lower the costs for intra-

Russian trade will be.

Despite the debates surrounding the legal status of the waters crossed, Russian territorial waters

are subject to the right of innocent passage. Moscow only has the right to establish non-

discriminatory regulations governing passage of vessels in ice-covered areas, especially in

accordance with environmental protection and safety laws (civil liability regulations for damage

arising from vessel-source oil pollution). Russia is legally unable to ask for fees since the Law of

the Sea Convention requires that treatment of foreign vessels be non-discriminatory. However, it

has imposed strict binding rules that have been validated by major international insurance

companies, but this measure is refused by the United States, which deems that it would mean

recognizing Russia‘s sovereignty beyond its territorial waters. It is by means of such obligations

that Moscow hopes to collected transit revenues. These services, which are provided by the

Marine Operation Headquarters and the Northern Sea Route Administration, are indeed costly. It

seems that only foreign ships pay for them, and that Russian ships are exempt, which in legal

terms can be regarded as a discriminatory measure.13

In addition, not all the Russian ports are

opened to foreign ships, and the list of which ones are can change from year to year.

114

7.2. Myths and Realities of an International Trade Lane through the NSR

The question of opening Arctic trade routes and of their profitability has been studied by several

programs, beginning with the International Northern Sea Route Programme (INSROP) in the

1990s,14

and continuing with the Arctic Operational Platform (ARCOP) and the Japan Northern

Sea Route-Geographic Information System (JANSROP-GIS). Numerous feasibility studies,

some of which are published, and some internal, have also been conducted by the main shipping

companies. Shipping along the Northern Sea Route can be either destinational (having an entry

or arrival port along the NRS), which means regional or trans-Arctic shipping, or transitional,

which means crossing the route from two points not in the NRS. This distinction is important as

it does not include the same categories of ships (transitional shipping must involve very large

tonnage tankers to be profitable) and invokes different commercial profitability strategies and

new logistical problems.

The prospect of having a new commercial Europe-Asia trade route is one of the most discussed

themes concerning the Arctic. An ice-free Arctic could make the transportation of commodities

to international markets easier and significantly reduce transportation costs by cutting 20 to 40

percent off the distance from Western Europe to Japan or China. All the Asian cities to the north

of Hong Kong could reach Europe more rapidly via the Arctic than via the Suez Canal. The

potential benefits brought by opening the Northern Sea Route are therefore more interesting for

Japan, Korea, and China than for India. The trip between Hamburg and Yokohama through the

Suez Canal (18,350 kilometers) thus would be reduced to 11,100 kilometers by using the

Northern Sea Route, which in theory amounts to a reduction from 22 to 15 days of navigation,

equivalent to a 40 percent reduction. Between Rotterdam and Shanghai would go from 22,200

kilometers via the Cape of Good Hope to 14,000 via the NSR.15

The volatile situation in the

Middle East, especially since the ―Arab spring‖ of 2011, the overload of the Suez Canal, its

transits fees, and growing piracy at the Horn of Africa encourage the development of new

alternatives. In addition, a reduced journey means cost savings in terms of fuel.

Transit from Russia to the North American continent would also be shorter by crossing the

Arctic. Murmansk is only 9,600 kilometers from Vancouver via the Bering Strait, but is 16,000

kilometers via the Panama Canal. In 2007, Russia and Canada both evoked the concept of an

―Arctic bridge‖ connecting the port of Churchill in Manitoba to Murmansk.16

The project had

already been raised some years before, since OmniTRAX, a major railroad operator that owns

the Churchill port, had been in negotiations with the Murmansk Shipping Company on this very

issue. In 2007 and 2008, first shipments of Russian fertilizer from Kaliningrad purchased by the

Farmers of North America cooperative of Saskatoon arrived in Churchill from Murmansk.17

This possible new trade route has raised the interest of many shipping companies. In 1990, six

trips took place, and on each occasion about 25 days were need to complete the entire route. In

1997, only two ships sailed the entire passage, with freight totaling a mere 30,000 tons. The

cargoes consisted mainly of fertilizers, metal, and timber exported from Finland and Sweden to

Japan, as well as of processed agricultural products transported to Europe from China and

Thailand. In the second half of the 2000s, with the confirmation of icecap retreat, more and more

shipping companies tested the viability of the route: 2009 was a test year for Europe-Asia transit,

while 2010 saw the first foreign commercial ships emerge. 18

115

Indeed in 2009, two ships from the Germany-based Beluga Shipping went from South Korea to

Rotterdam and were the first foreign ships able to cross the NSR without using icebreakers.19

In

July 2010, two Russian ice-class tankers carrying 27,000 tons of diesel oil sailed from Murmansk

to Pevek. In August of the same year, Sovcomflot sent its first shipment of gas condensate on the

Baltica to Ningbo in China.20

In September, the Norwegian ship Nordic Barents, freighted by

Nordic Bulk Carriers and the Tschudi Shipping Company, was the third non-Russian flagged

vessel and the first bulk carrier with a non-Russian flag to use the Northern Sea Route,

transporting iron ore from Norway to China.21

These journeys are bound to grow in number. In

2011, the NSR is set to be used to transport 150,000 tons of oil, 400,000 tons of gas condensate,

and 600,000 tons of iron ore, mainly owing to Novatek‘s transit needs.22

Beluga Shipping has

plans to send heavy lift cargoes along the Northern Sea Route as regularly as possible.23

These trade and transit prospects are especially interesting for the Asian nations, in particular

China. But they also appeal to Japan and South Korea, which are very dependent upon energy

supplies coming through the straits of Asia, and whose trade is mainly directed toward the

United States and Europe. Upon the collapse of the Soviet Union, a Japanese team set out to the

Arctic and participated in the International Northern Sea Route Programme, a large Russian-

Norwegian-Japanese research project conducted between 1993 and 1999.24

At the time Tokyo

was considering using the NSR to transport its nuclear fuel to reprocessing facilities in Europe,

but those plans seem to have been abandoned. Today, growing numbers of Japanese research

centers are active participants in international polar stations, and shipping companies are

increasingly interested in the prospects opened up by the NSR. South Korea has a similar

interest. While its Arctic scientific research is less developed than that of China or Japan, its

naval construction sector is cutting-edge. In 2007, Samsung Heavy Industries delivered a shuttle

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tanker weighing 70,000 tons able to navigate through Arctic sea and breaks ice at a speed of 2.8

knots, a feat that has been recognized as a technological development.25

However, the most advanced Asian country is undoubtedly China. Beijing has its own Arctic

program, which maintains 26 research expeditions. The Chinese authorities openly lays claim to

the right to use the high seas of the Arctic Ocean, to innocent passage within the territorial seas

and EEZs of the Arctic states, and to transit passage in straits used for international navigation.

In 2010, a Chinese scientific research vessel, the Xue Long, carried out a mission of close to

three months in the Russian Arctic.26

But the viability of a new sea line of communication does not come down to its representation on

a map or a globe. It also depends upon a set of complex practical, technical conditions, as well as

factors of predictability, and still existing competing lines. Indeed, the difficulties are immense

and reduce the NRS‘s prospects of profitability.

First of all, travelling along the NSR is complex at the technological level. The disappearance of

ice-caps during the summer does not mean that the Arctic Ocean will become ice-free in the

proper sense of the term. Ice can quickly form at very different locations; there will still be

moving icebergs; and the danger of collision with ships will be considerable. Ice can take ships

by surprise and reduce the predictability of the journey. The year to year variations of the

presence of ice will continue severely to hamper the scheduling of the shipping season and its

smooth running. Lastly, climate change is not likely to make the concrete situation of navigation

easier: the polar night will not disappear, the temperatures will continue to be extremely cold,

periods of rain and fog will increase, and visibility will be reduced. Wind- and wave-derived

hazardous phenomena will intensify. There will be an increase in the frequency of ice storms and

in the intensity of spray freezing, as well as a more intense erosion of coastlines made of loose

permafrost rocks.27

Lastly, depending upon the thickness of the ice, ship speed through the ice

floe will vary between 2 and 5 knots, and travel times can become considerably longer, while for

containers transit the ―just-in-time‖ issue is overriding.

In addition, travelling in extreme conditions is expensive. Along the straits running between the

Severnaya Zemlya archipelago and the New Siberian Islands, ice conditions are difficult to

negotiate even for icebreakers. The straits tend to accumulate large ice masses that may block the

progress of vessels. The ships have to travel in convoys, which lead to periods of waiting and

immobility. The shallowness of the shelf areas also set limits on the draught of ships: less than

100 meters in the Kara Sea and about 50 meters in the Laptev and Eastern Siberian Seas. In the

Sannikov Strait the minimum depth is a mere 13 meters and in the Laptev Strait is a mere eight.28

This excludes passage by ships with conventional hulls larger than 20,000 deadweight tons

(dwt), and in any case ships cannot be larger than the nuclear-powered icebreakers that open up a

path for them. A large number of world‘s container ships are already too large for the Suez or

Panama Canal, and the booming trade between China and the West has fuelled the development

of even larger container ships.29

As a result of these very specific conditions, shipping companies

would have to charter ice-class vessels with double hulls and to train teams with experience in

circumpolar milieus. Technological innovations are emerging. The Finnish shipbuilders Aker

Arctic (formerly Kvaerner Masa-Yards) have designed a new type of double-acting vessel that

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has the same open sea characteristics as other ships in its class, but is combined with the

breaking capacity of a powerful icebreaker.30

On a strictly financial level, several barriers have to be taken into account and the administrative

procedure of transiting the NSR is time-consuming. Russia demands that foreign ships pay fees

for chartering icebreakers, for obtaining weather and ice reports, and that they hire two Russian

pilots to guide them in the straits and pay the clean-up costs after accidents. The administrative

procedure of transiting the NSR is time-consuming. The ice-breaking fee depends on ship size,

ice class, the route, and the level of support required. The basis of the fee charged is determined

by the size of the ship: the larger the ship, the lower per ton tariff. In the 2000s the rate was

increased to an average of 23 dollars per ton of cargo in order to maintain and modernize the

icebreakers.31

These expenses are considered too high by the main shipping companies. But fees

are set based on the current cargo flow, such that should the cargo flow increase to 40 million

tons or more per year, the fees could decrease to around 1 dollar per ton.32

Next, the requisite insurance for an Arctic trip puts a strain on budgets. Such trips are among the

most expensive in the world, as is also the case for navigation in Antarctica. Indeed, for the time

being the NSR has no really operational rescue system, the number of ports able to host ships in

need of repairs is insufficient, and the risks of collision are considerable, as the lanes of direction

are not defined, not even in the Barents Sea, which is already quite busy.33

Even though vessel

fuel efficiency and reduced distances may, on paper, appear to be one of the drivers of the NSR

development, the route has major disadvantages, such as its seasonality, its excessive costs at the

technological level, and its unpredictability. This does not encourage shipping companies to

develop their own Arctic fleets and to train personnel in circumpolar navigation unless it

functions all year round. And combining a summer route via the NSR with a winter route via

Suez Canal would create some planning challenges with respect to the development of the vessel

fleet.34

At the ecological level, heavier maritime traffic in the Arctic region will increase the likelihood

of accidents. In July 2010, two oil tankers belonging to Murmansk Shipping Company collided

along the NSR, fortunately without causing too much damage.35

But the pollution of sea waters

and Arctic coasts could have an unprecedented impact on already weakened systems. Around 20

percent of marine pollution originates from ships, drilling platforms, and other maritime

installations. Moreover, in 2010 the Russian parliament postponed the second reading of the new

draft law ―On Management of Radioactive Waste,‖ a controversial piece of legislation that may

allow the storage of foreign radioactive waste on Russian territory.36

Apart from these risks of

accident, it is also necessary to take into account eventualities such as the possibility of invasive

species entering the Arctic eco-system; the disturbance of mammal life; and a boost in the levels

of low-lying ozone, as ship exhausts pump pollutants into the pristine environment. The Arctic‘s

growing economic activity thus multiplies the risks of oil spills (during exploration, exploitation,

storage and/or shipping; accidental releases in oil harbors and terminals; accident on the major

transportation routes); of hazardous material waste; of radioactivity releases associated with

nuclear power plants and nuclear waste storage facilities; and of accidents in mining structures

such as fires and explosions, as well as of accidental releases of tailings and oil, heavy metals,

chlorine, propane, butane and oxides.37

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In these conditions, questions concerning the securitization of navigation are crucial, especially

in a region that will have to manage a multitude of types of navigation: icebreakers, tankers, bulk

carriers, tug-barge combinations, fishing vessels, cruise ships, research vessels, etc. What is

more, the Arctic tankers will essentially transport hydrocarbons and minerals, and not

manufactured products, so the environmental risk in case of accident is higher. These issues are

being discussed within the International Maritime Organization, as is the possibility of

implementing voluntary Guidelines for Ships Operating in Arctic Ice-covered Waters, or even a

binding Polar Code in later years.38

In this way, the EU, some non-EU member states, and the

International Association of Classification Societies (IACS) have developed non-mandatory

Unified Requirements for their members that address ship construction standards for the Polar

Classes, which are defined in the IMO Guidelines.39

The implementation of strategies of prevention and training for emergency situations in the

Arctic is also a core activity of the Emergency Prevention, Preparedness and Response (EPPR)

Group of the Arctic Council. Russia, represented by the Ministry of Emergency Situations

(EMERCOM) is particularly active on questions of sea and rescue (SAR) systems. Sea and

rescue capabilities are in place in Murmansk and Vladivostok. The system is most developed at

the former. The Murmansk Basin Emergency Rescue Service (MBERS) and the company

Ekospas-Murmansk are the two service agencies responsible for cleaning up after emergency

situations involving oil and gas in the region. The international cooperation framework is well

developed. The Barents Rescue Cooperation, for instance, improves the ability of rescue services

agencies to coordinate emergency and rescue issues across national borders in the Barents

Region.40

MBERS has also been contracted by the Rosmorport Company to provide emergency

rescue services in the White Sea. In the Bering Sea, regional SAR agreements between the U.S.

Coast Guard and Russia‘s EMERCOM have improved response and coordination. The United

States and Russia are leading cooperation on nuclear and radiological emergency management

issues. There are over 12 million empty barrels and fuel containers still remaining in the Russian

Arctic zone, 3 percent of which are potentially dangerous.41

However, there is a large SAR gap along the central section of the Northern Sea Route in East

Siberia, where almost no infrastructure has been set up. In order to make up for this deficit, ten

new rescue centers in Arkhangelsk, Salekhard, Dudinsk, Tiksi, Pevek and Anadyr, to be manned

on permanent basis by 150 personnel, and equipped with rescue and fire-guard material,

helicopters and small boats, are to be created by 2015.42

Russia also plans to design the next

generation icebreaker fleet with multi-function equipment, such as SAR helicopters and

firefighting equipment for off-shore oil rig fires. These systems will be designed to supervise

navigation in the NRS, but also to prepare for emergency situations stemming from air travel

over the North Pole. Originally introduced in 2001, these routes have had a 30 percent increase

in use each year and fly over extremely remote territories.

The question remains of how the 14,000 kilometers of Russian coasts will be monitored and

patrolled. The existing navigation aids, radio stations, and hydro-meteorological services are

largely insufficient. A large part of the central part of the Russian Arctic coastlines is reportedly

not covered by radio, so that Moscow is obliged to buy the information from the United States

and Canada.43

Russia hopes to create a unified space of communication in the Arctic by 2015

with the installation of Polarnet, a new generation international telecommunications network that

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runs a cable fiber optic system along a Great Britain—Norway—Russia route, with the following

splitting for the United States, Japan and, China.44

The air balisage system also has to be

improved so that the polar aviation brigades can ensure the rescue operations. For that, Russia

has to invest massively in satellites and improved observation techniques that will allow ship

operators to monitor the conditions of ice and pack ice. Russia's satellite network has fourteen

stations dedicated to the NSR, but this is viewed as the minimum requirement for route finding

through the ice. Four low-orbit satellites and five geo-stationary satellites will be used for the

COSPAS-SARSAT system, developed by the United States, Canada, France, and Russia for

maritime SAR. EMERCOM will also improve its cooperation with the Russian state agency for

space, Roskosmos. A new system, ―Multipurpose Space Systems Arctica,‖ is set to be

operational in 2015 to assist in emergency situations, hydro-meteorology predictions,

communications over the poles, and SAR.45

7.3. The NSR as a domestic/destination route

The second function of the NSR is linked to destinational shipping, which can include

international shipping, mainly in the Barents Sea between Nordic countries and Russia (export of

timber since the 1920s, supplies of oil and LNG to Europe today) or in the Bering Sea between

Russia, Asia and the United States, but it chiefly involves domestic shipping within Russia. The

NSR does constitute a strategic internal communication route for Russia. Although the Trans-

Siberian delivers the majority of the freight circulating between the European regions, southern

Siberia, and the Russian Far East, circulating in the regions to the north of the Trans-Siberian is

extremely difficult. Here again, the figures seem to speak in favor of Arctic transit. The trip

between Murmansk and the Bering Strait is 5,600 kilometers along the Arctic coasts, 4,600 via

the north of Severnaya Zemlya, and the New Siberian and Wrangel Islands, and only 4,300 via

the pole itself.46

The distance from St. Petersburg to Vladivostok on the NSR is 14,800

kilometers, whereas through the Suez Canal it is 23,200, and around the Cape of Good Hope it is

29,400 kilometers.

Since Bolshevik times, the Soviet regime considered the NSR to be a key component of its

strategies for economic development in the High North and remote Siberian regions. The

opening of shipping routes during the summer season was always presented as a transport

priority. Since 1978, the Russian icebreaker fleet has succeeded in keeping open all year round

the stretch going from Murmansk to Dudinka, on the banks of the Yenisei River. Traffic from

west to east was essentially devoted to fuel and coal, construction materials, and consumption

goods (manufactured and food products) for the Arctic and Siberians populations, while

returning ships were loaded with timber and minerals. In many Arctic ports, cargoes discharged

directly onto the ice in winter and in the river estuaries in the summer. The link between the

ocean and remote regions through rivers was conceived as a totally integrated system. Many

3,000-ton river-sea shallow-draught freighters and tankers were used between northern coastal

ports and points deep in the interior, while towing large barges was not a developed practice in

the Soviet Union.47

Though trans-Arctic shipping did take place in Soviet times, transport was mainly regionalized

and confined to two main routes: between Murmansk or Arkhangelsk and the Taimyr Peninsula;

and between Vladivostok and Chukotka. Between 1950 and 1980, more than 400 ice-

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strengthened freighters were used in operations along the Route on an annual basis.48

Up until

1987, the state subsidized the Sevmorput‘ to the tune of about 400 million dollars per year, and

during this decade, yearly traffic culminated at almost 7 million tons. In the 1990s, the NSR

collapsed to about 2 million tons.49

In 1993, with the Russian state in total bankruptcy, the

management of the Sevmorput‘ was handed over to the regions, themselves also impoverished, in

the name of decentralization. The route was then seriously jeopardized, costly infrastructures

were no longer maintained, and security ceased to be assured.

The Northern Sea Route and its main Ports

In 2000, upon Putin‘s arrival in power, NSR traffic dropped to a mere 1.6 million tons, or a

quarter of its 1980s level; yet the minimal threshold to ensure the profitability of the icebreakers

is 4 million tons.50

The new president then decided to set up a new centralized service called the

Administration of the Northern Sea Route, which comprises part of the Ministry of the Merchant

Fleet. It manages the icebreaker services which accompany ships, and the use of nuclear energy

in maritime transport. It is also in charge of the prevention and management of environmental

accidents, as well as navigation aid systems, the monitoring of hydrographic conditions, and

access to ports. The Russian administration has predicted the transit of 9 million tons for 2011,

with six tons going from west to east, and three from east to west.51

Russian calculations, which

are based solely on domestic transport needs, predict a traffic increase to 15 million tons by

2015, mainly thanks to increasing oil-related activities. For the time being, Arctic shipping

comes from the Timan-Pechora basin and Western Siberia. Once the deposits of the South Kara

Sea are under exploitation, and the Yamal Peninsula is producing LNG, domestic freight could

grow rapidly up to 50 million tons by 2020.52

Russia also exports roundwood, lumber, pulp and

paper. The Barents Sea will be the most dynamic region of the Russian Arctic. Even moderate

forecasts predict that transportation of oil from Russian Barents ports will increase by 50 percent

by 2020.53

To revive the NSR, Russia has proposed an ambitious ―Strategy for the development

of port infrastructures by 2030,‖ which fits in the framework of the Maritime Doctrine of

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Russian Federation by 2020,54

and is being implemented by the state-run corporation

Rosmorport. In 2010, six nuclear icebreakers, four of the heavy Arktika class and two of the

shallow-draft Taymyr class, maintain the NSR.

Today the traffic is almost exclusively limited to the western section of the Russian Arctic

coasts, between Murmansk and Dudinka. With the multiplication of gas exploitations and the

increase of cooperation between Norway and Russia, the Barents Sea—which is not legally part

of the NSR—is bound to become the most dynamic part of the Russian Arctic and the most

congested with ships and vessels. The West Kara Sea is also experiencing an increase in oil

traffic from the west Siberian fields to Northern Europe, and the exploitation of the South Kara

Sea deposits by BP and Rosneft ought to speed up the process. Since 2000, small tankers have

transported gradually increasing volumes of oil from the new Varandey terminal on the Pechora

coast. Timber exports, ores, and processed metals are also shipped from the port of Igarka via the

Kara Sea.55

The eastern part of the Russian Arctic, as for it, is only used for one-off occasions, such as in

2004, when several tens of thousands of tons of tubes destined for a Gazprom gas pipeline were

transported by sea to Chukotka.56

Along with the region of Krasnoyark, both the local

administrations of Yakutia-Sakha and Chukotka use the NSR to receive deliveries on a regular

basis. Each year, the so-called Northern Deliveries Campaigns sends supplies to the Northeast.

Around 60 percent of the freight passing through the Igarka and Kolyma rivers comes directly by

sea, while the rest comes along the Lena. The Pevek port is therefore busy during the navigation

season. The exploitation of new deposits in East Siberia could revive some of the traffic as the

sites will require construction materials that are so heavy that it is easier to transport them by sea.

Moreover, Russian firms do not pay, or pay lower, service fees than foreign companies when

they have recourse to the Marine Operation Headquarters and the Northern Sea Route

Administration or use port infrastructures. This West-East division of the Russian Arctic is

reflected in the fleet. The administration has authorized two private shipping companies to act as

Marine Operations Headquarters: the Murmansk Shipping Company has its operations

headquarters at Dikson for the western portion; while the Far East Shipping Companies

(FESCO) has its own at Pevek for the eastern one.57

7.4. Modernizing the Fleet and the Shipyard Sector

At the start of the 1970s, the Soviet Union had 138 ice-class freighters in the Arctic Basin, whose

deadweight reached close to 500,000 tons. At the end of the Soviet period, their number

approached 350, added to which were sixteen icebreakers, eight of which were nuclear

powered.58

The first nuclear-powered icebreaker, the Lenin, entered service in 1960. The other

nuclear icebreakers have been built at the Baltic factory in Leningrad since 1974. Their flagship,

the Arktika, ensures year-round navigation between Murmansk and Dudinka and extends the

shipping season in Arctic regions. Shallow-draught icebreakers were also introduced to work in

rivers and their estuaries. The 1990s were terrible years for this sector, which was completely

destructured and devoid of finances. From the time the atomic icebreaker Yamal joined the fleet

in 1993, it took another fourteen years before the Fifty years of Victory was launched in 2007.

Although Russia still has the world‘s largest and most powerful icebreaker fleet, it is ageing: of

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the seven nuclear-powered icebreakers constructed in the 1970s and 1980s, all will have to be

decommissioned by 2020, with the exception of the Fifty years of Victory.

Russian shipbuilders resumed work in the 2000s. Russia‘s maritime doctrine for 2020, adopted

in 2001, forecasts the revival of maritime transportation, the development of coastal port

infrastructure, the upgrade of maritime trade and the mixed (river-sea) shipping.59

Icebreakers

are the priority: in 2009, Putin gave the go ahead to construct three nuclear-powered icebreakers

with a capacity of 60MW to be ready by 2020, a lead icebreaker with a capacity of 110MW, as

well as seven diesel-electric and four port-supporting icebreakers.60

However, given the time

required for construction, the technological lags, and the financial difficulties, Russia risks

finding itself with a period of a few years, around 2017-2020, in which it has only one or two

icebreakers, a largely insufficient number to ensure the circulation of tankers. Moreover, because

of the 2008 economic downturn, Russian projects are behind schedule. The budget to

commission a new icebreaker for active service in 2016 was received from the Ministry of

Transport only in 2011.61

Moreover, to circulate throughout the year along the polar route,

Moscow needs third generation icebreakers that are more powerful and meet the expectations of

large energy companies. The Russian nuclear fleet is managed by Atomflot, which was

transferred from the Ministry of Transport to the State Atomic Energy Corporation Rosatom,

which is itself in charge of supplying the nuclear fuel needed for the fleet. The Iceberg Central

Design Office is the leading designer of icebreakers and ice ships, including those propelled by

nuclear power plants.62

It is also necessary to renew to Russian fleet of hydrographic ships,

three-quarters of which have been in operation for over twenty-five years.63

Despite the state orders, the main actors of today‘s market for Arctic ships are public and private

companies.64

These mainly include mining and metallurgic company Norilsk Nickel, the gas

corporation Gazprom, the oil enterprises Rosneft, Lukoil, and Novatek, and two maritime

companies, the Murmansk Shipping Company, and the Far Eastern Shipping Company. Since

domestic shipbuilding capabilities drastically decreased in the 1990s, the Russian merchant fleet

has been obliged to order 95 percent of its new ships from abroad and only five percent from

Russian companies.65

The market that has been lost by the Russian shipyards is thus immense

(orders placed abroad amount to about 1 billion dollars), and with it the loss of knowledge;

Russian yards need double the time and double the money of other countries to build similar

ships. Their specialized engineers have gone to work abroad, as the shipyard market is largely

international.66

The most promising domain is in ships needed to master the shelf. For the Arctic and the Caspian

seas, Russian companies claim that by 2030 they will need 55 extraction platforms, floating or

submarine edifices, 85 transport ships, and 140 auxiliary ships.67

The main naval military sites,

then, have every interest in diversifying their orders to meet the expectations of the civil fleet.

Today they are largely run by market principles and not military-strategic considerations. As a

sign of this evolution, these shipyards now fall under the Ministry of Commerce and Economic

Development, and not the Ministry of Defense. The shipbuilding sector is set to double

production by 2015, with civilian vessels accounting for at least 33 percent of total output.68

At the end of the 1990s, Lukoil availed itself of a new fleet of ten ice-class oil tankers of 15,000

to 20,000 tons for the transport of crude oil, tankers which belong to its subsidiary, Arctic

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Tankers. Some of them were resold in the 2000s so that it could buy the Varandey multi-purpose

icebreaker, built by Keppel Singmarine (Singapore).69

Since 2009 it has been deployed near the

stationary sea ice-strengthened shipping platform of the Varandey terminal, ensuring safe

operations during the tanker loading. The oil terminal of Varandey, at the doors of the Kara Sea,

has a capacity of 12 million tons.70

Another terminal close to Murmansk will be able to

accommodate tankers of 250,000 deadweight tonnages, onto which will be loaded the crude

arriving in ice-class ships. Lukoil has also acquired majority control in the capital of the

Northern Shipping Company based in Arkhangelsk, and 51 percent of the shares of the

Murmansk Shipping Company. The Lukoil fleet is intended to ensure the continuous year-round

export of the company‘s oil production from the Timan-Pechora district. Today it is the main

operator of the Arctic Basin with around 200 various profiled vessels.71

Norilsk Nickel is itself on the verge of becoming a key actor of Arctic shipping. Since 2004 it

has been building a fleet of ice-breaking cargo vessels, rendering it almost independent of

icebreaker assistance. The firm concluded a contract with Finnish shipbuilder Aker Yards to

develop the concept of icebreaking, 14,500-ton containers of up to 400 TEU (foot equivalent

units), designed for year-round operations. The first one was delivered by Finland in 2006, and

four more are being built by the German Aker dockyards. All are equipped with AZIPOD

double-action propelling units: while sailing on its own each ship is capable of breaking 1.5-

meter thick Arctic ice moving sternforemost at speeds of up to 3 knots.72

Norilsk Nickel has

therefore an operational fleet of five icebreaking carriers capable of operating independently

through the winter season to serve Dudinka. In 2009, it received an exemption from Russian-

state measures to ensure that carriers comply with Russian customs regulations, which include

customs duty payments, customs support, and fixed transport routes.73

It now transports about

one million tons of goods, mainly metal products and nickel matte, and also gas condensate from

the Petlyatkin field on the Taimyr Peninsula. Also in 2009, Norilsk Nickel opened a logistics

office in Rotterdam to serve the company‘s cargo transport between Dudinka and Europe.74

The Murmansk Shipping Company, the world‘s only owner of nuclear-powered civil ships, has

sold some of its ice-class ships and henceforth is supplied from abroad. For a longtime it was in

charge of servicing Dudinka for Norilsk, at a time when the mining combine was without its own

fleet. It also transports apatites from Kandalakcha, on the Kola Peninsula, and it services the oil

terminals of Varandey, Kolgev, the Ob estuary, and Yakutia. At present it has about twenty ships

able to transport up to 460,000 tons, and six tankers with a total capacity of 340,000 tons.75

The

Far Eastern Shipping Company, the country‘s largest private intermodal transportation group,

also owns icebreakers, but only classically powered ones. Every year FESCO icebreakers patrol

the Eastern Arctic and provide ice lead to over 600 vessels, which deliver about 2 million tons

of cargos. It mainly serves the ports of Chukotka and Yakutia and has an active fleet of about 80

ships.76

Both companies should be able to avail themselves of a new generation of nuclear-

powered ships of 60,000 kW as of 2015.77

For its part, Gazprom needs more than 20 platforms, and more than 50 ships and floating storage

facilities to master the Arctic shelf. It has launched plans for a large-scale construction program

of 20 LNG tankers to move production from Shtokman.78

As a state-run corporation, it has

decided that the carriers should be built at Russians shipyards, although it could be done more

inexpensively at foreign plants. However, most of the parts and materials for the vessels, from

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pipes to paint, still have to be imported. In 2009 Gazprom agreed with Northern Shipyard on the

production of LNG carriers. It has also signed an agreement with Sovcomflot. The Russian share

in supplies to production of offshore vessels has recently increased from 40 to 50 percent.79

A

new generation Arctic class tanker, the Mikhail Ulyanov, is scheduled to start serving the

Prirazlomnoe field. Gazflot, Gazprom‘s offshore exploration subsidiary, is also in need of

drilling capacities and geological and geophysical ships. In 1995, it ordered an Arctic platform,

which is set to play a key role in the development of Arctic offshore resources and is being built

in Severodvinsk, and a platform for the Prirazlomnoe field, but both buildings have been delayed

several times, incurred surplus costs, and will now be delivered only in 2011.80

The state-run company Sovcomflot, one of Russia‘s largest infrastructure companies, operates

the fleet of 143 vessels with a total deadweight exceeding 10 million tons. It is the number one

operator of Arctic shuttle tankers and ice class gas carriers, and already has a dozen ice class 1A

tankers.81

It has commissioned its third 70,000 dwt dual-acting tanker for use along the NSR. It

is specialized in the transport of crude oil bound for Europe, the use of floating storage facilities,

and renders procurement services for drilling rigs and production platforms using specialized

procurement vessels. In 2011, Novatek, Russia‘s largest independent gas producer and second-

largest natural gas producer, signed an agreement with Atomflot in order to secure reliable

supply routes for the delivery of materials and the technological infrastructure necessary for

constructing its surface facilities and LNG plant in the Yamal Peninsula.82

To meet these pressing needs, in 2007 Moscow launched a ―Development Strategy for the naval

industry for 2020,‖ and in 2008, a ―Federal Targeted Program in the Development of Civilian

Marine Engineering.‖83

The government has planned investments of more than 5.5 billion dollars

for the development of shipyards between 2010 and 2015.84

Nautical activities are indeed one of

the three priority areas the Kremlin has identified in order to revive the domestic industry, along

with aviation and space, but Russian ambitions are slow to become reality. The hope is to

transform the shipyards into a competitive industry by 2016 and to be able to respond to a large

share of domestic needs, as well as to export. If the scheduled year of 2016 seems very

optimistic, a dynamic of revival is nonetheless well and truly underway in the main shipyards of

Severodvinsk, Murmansk, Vyborg, and Petersburg, which control 70 percent of Russian

shipbuilding. The reforms gave birth, in 2007, to the state-run Unified Shipbuilding Corporation

(OSK). Under its umbrella work the Northern Centre for Shipbuilding and the Ship Repairs—

that is Russia‘s two main shipyards, Sevmash and Zvezdochka, both based in Severodvinsk—as

well as smaller yards and associated production companies; the Western Centre for Shipbuilding

in Petersburg, which includes the Admiralty yards, several smaller yards, and part of the

Northern yard (Severnaya verf'), 20 percent of whose shares are state owned; the Far Eastern

shipbuilding, a design office called Rubin; and the firm Iceberg, 24 percent of whose shares are

state owned and that is in charge of designing new Arctic vessels.85

Hence, three of the most important yards are still privately owned: the Vyborg Shipyard, and

partly the Northern Yard and the Baltic Factory (Baltiiskii zavod) in Petersburg, although they

are under pressure to follow policies that are in conformity with the OSK. Moreover, their

owners are close associates of Putin‘s inner circle and the policies they pursue are thus in total

agreement with the Kremlin‘s choices. The Vyborg shipbuilding company, which has very close

ties to Gazprom, specializes in building small and medium tonnage vessels and offshore drilling

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rigs. It has experience in semi-submersible floating drilling and production platforms, and soon it

plans to build stationary production platforms and deep sea jack-ups.86

The Northern Yard and the Baltic Factory, both created in Czarist times, are owned by the

private investment company United Industrial Corporation (OPK), which also has majority

shares in Iceberg. Both are specialized in large nuclear vessels, such as the Fifty Years of Victory,

and have recently built two diesel-electric icebreakers, including the Moskva, which has been

commissioned by Rosmorport. They are also in charge of constructing four Orlan nuclear

cruisers and are expecting orders for large tankers.87

The OPK‘s aim is to set up a modern world-

class compact shipyard, by merging existing facilities of the Northern Yard and the Baltic

Factory. This will be done by revamping and re-equipping the existing facilities and building

new ones, which will mean that OPK is able to make the entire line of ships of up to 300,000

tons in deadweight, something it would like to do in partnership with the South Korean

companies Daewoo Shipbuilding and Marine Engineering (DSME).88

Specializing in small

coastal vessels, the new site could theoretically build 30 corvettes, 30 frigates, six escort

squadrons, and 30 auxiliary vessels by 2020. The challenge of this new shipbuilding project is

immense and there are conflicting interests between private and public actors, as competition

between both yards have long been in the headlines.89

Russia‘s first floating nuclear power plant,

construction of which began at Sevmash but was transferred to the Baltic facility, was

inaugurated at the end of 2009. It is the first of eight floating nuclear power plants to be built,

and will be delivered to Viliuchinsk in Kamchatka.90

The Petersburg and Vyborg-based yards will play a central role in offshore projects, although the

technological level of the Severodvinsk yards was higher in Soviet times, and Sevmash is still

Russia‘s largest submarine yard. Today Sevmash and Zvezdochka are in charge of building

Borey class submarines: the Alexander Nevsky, which was moved to floating dock at the end of

2010, and the forthcoming Vladimir Monomakh. Zvezdochka has also built a series of carrier

vessels for the shallow waters of the Barents Sea, the White Sea, and the Sea of Azov. The

border guards state agency has additionally commissioned a series of small patrol vessels for

coastal surveillance.91

Both yards also deal with repairs to atomic cruisers such as the Admiral

Rakhimov and nuclear submarines such as Pantera. Several ships and submarines

decommissioned from the Russian Army are used at Sevmash in cooperation programs with the

United States and NATO.92

To cope with the collapse of the domestic military command, since

1997 both yards have initiated cooperation with the Indian Ministry of Defense, which ordered

the modernization and transformation of a cruiser aircraft carrier and of a few diesel-electric

Soviet submarines. But it has had to deal with multiple delays, surplus costs, and technological

non-completion. The Indian Navy recommissioned a diesel-electric submarine, the Sindhuvidjay,

in 2008,93

but has to wait until 2012 to receive the cruiser aircraft carrier, the former Admiral

Gorshkov, recently renamed the Vikramaditya.

94 In 2003, Zvezdochka won the right to

independently conduct business operations abroad and since 2008, has been authorized to

renovate the 956th

escort squadron. Using its status, it sold over 30 million dollars worth of

military spare parts to foreign companies in 2009, mainly in India and China.95

Since the 1990s, when military orders dropped by 95 percent, Sevmash and Zvezdochka were

forced to convert to dual-use technologies. In 2005, 33 percent of Sevmash orders came from the

Ministry of Defense, 30 percent from the oil industry, and 25 percent from foreign companies. In

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terms of civilian seafaring, the building of trawlers, tug boats, and various types of passenger

vessels makes up an increasingly important part of their portfolio. Nonetheless, several of their

projects have been partly or totally unsuccessful: the Arctic Platform; the 85,000-ton ice-capable

oil production platform intended for the Prirazlomnoe field; and the aborted contract with

Norwegian Dan Odfjell for a series of twelve chemical tankers, Sevmash‘s largest civil

contract.96

Sevmash has renovated cruise ships such as the Alushta, transformed a submarine into

a museum, and built a fish factory for the American company Sea Wing, as well as several piers

for the Swedish company Promar, floating docks, barges, yachts, and frigates. The shipyard is

also involved in the construction of several types of platforms planned for the Pechora Sea or the

Shtokman site. Together with Norilsk Nickel, Sevmash has explored the possibility of

reconstructing Typhoon submarines for the purpose of transporting nickel from Dudinka to

Murmansk. It also collaborates with foreign companies such as Conoco, Total, and Halliburton,

and is involved in extraction activities from the Ardalin and Khariagin deposits in the Nenets

autonomous district. Finally, it provides pipelines to several national companies, such as

Transneft, some Lukoil subsidiaries, Surgutneftegaz, and Yuganneftegaz.97

Zvezdochka is more advanced in its civil conversion and has even retrained its staff in activities

totally unrelated to its primary expertise, such as work on precious stones. It has managed to

penetrate the market of civilian seafaring. Since the early 1990s, it has won tenders from Dutch

companies like Swets Shipping and Trading, has received orders for a series of tug-boats from

Damen Shipyards, and now works closely with Finnish and Norwegian companies. It has built

metal elements destined for Statoil, Kvaerner Oil and Gas, and Aker Solutions, and has expanded

its partnership with Moss Maritime, a Norwegian leader in maritime technology. At home,

Zvezdochka works with major Russian energy companies and is also part of the Union of

Producers of Oil and Gas Equipment. The plant is known for its construction of 50010 trawlers,

considered the best in their class in terms of vessels produced in Russia. Zvezdochka‘s strategy

seems to be paying off, since orders for 2011 are 71 percent higher than the previous year, and it

maintains nearly 300 vessels at the plant.98

*****

The prospect of regular shipping in Arctic waters is probably one of the domains in which the

imagination, fuelled by novel-like readings of the great epics of navigation history, is most vivid.

The future of the Northern Sea Route nonetheless remains very broadly dependent on expected

climate changes. Without any global ice melt, the route will be too difficult to use and therefore

not viable commercially. Even if the Arctic becomes an ice-free ocean, the technological

difficulties, the financial cost, and unpredictability do not guarantee its transformation into a real

trade line. Simply having a geographical localization between Europe, America, and the Asia-

Pacific regions does not suffice to transform existing economic mechanisms; shipping companies

prefer to have immense tankers circulate via the southern seas rather than to risk Arctic transit.

Only an unprecedented destabilization of the Middle East, disturbing the traffic of the Suez

Canal or the Hormuz Strait, an incredibly high level of piracy, or prevention from circulating on

the Indian Ocean and through Malacca could suddenly force shipping companies to turn toward

the Arctic in a massive and radical way. Without such conditions, it is likely that using the NSR

will be of interest only to some sectors of world trade. The actors that will specialize in Arctic

traffic will be chiefly Asian companies, as the Asian powers want to become less dependent

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upon the southern straits, and so their concerns are more geopolitical than purely commercial, as

well as the European—mainly German and Nordic—companies that travel to Russia. The

transported goods will essentially consist of hydrocarbons and minerals, but not manufactured

objects such as textiles or (less still) appliances of any kind.

For Russia, the stakes are of an entirely different nature. Climate change or not, Moscow wants

to revive its Northern Sea Route, is ready to pay the price of the technological challenges, and

will try to integrate the Arctic into its development strategies. Destinational traffic is indeed

bound to play a growing role in the energy-based revival of the Arctic regions. Russia would like

also to recover its know-how in the shipyard industries, as well as its human capital: the Russian

marines, which are well trained, have largely gone abroad chasing more attractive salaries, and

the generation gap is immense. The role of private companies, all of whom are linked to the gas

and oil sector, with the exception of Norilsk Nickel, will be central in the years to come. For

them, Arctic shipping is something that will have to be addressed, irrespective of the cost. The

Russian Arctic will therefore be used for ends that are more commercial than military, and will

become one of the main venues of cooperation between the public and private sectors.

The future of the Russian Arctic will be fragmented regionally. Only the Barents and Kara Seas

will have to contend with increasing shipping, since economic activity does not really go beyond

the Yamal Peninsula. The eastern part of the Arctic coastline will probably remain largely

deserted. The coastlines of Chukotka facing the Bering Strait will be able to benefit little from

the development of trade in the Russian Far East via Kamchatka. But even without becoming a

very busy trade lane, the NSR is destined to remain a preoccupation of the Russian state: the

risks of accidents, combined with the weakness of the ecosystems, as well as the geopolitical and

trade risks of more internationalized shipping will force Moscow to emphasize soft security

issues along with growing international cooperation, mainly in terms of research and rescue

systems.

Key findings

Legally, Russia will continue to define the Northern Sea Route (NSR) as national waters in

which foreign navigation is welcome but controlled. It could try to use the legislation in its favor

to restrict foreign presence. The Northern Sea Route is therefore potential new leverage for

Russia over the international community.

However, the revenues that Moscow could draw from this traffic are high, and they legitimate

the building of a new fleet of icebreakers. They are vital for the survival of Russian domestic

Arctic shipping. Russia thus has every interest in a growing foreign presence to finance its own

development objectives.

Moscow will remain ahead of the United States and Canada in terms of its Arctic fleet, and will

seek to strengthen its shipyard facilities. However, a large part of the trade fleet will continue to

be purchased from abroad, whether in Asia, or in cooperation with the naval yards of northern

Europe.

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It will probably take around twenty to thirty years until Arctic conditions have become suitable

for regular transits. Large-scale, year-round transit operations will hardly be possible before the

ice cover has disappeared for most of the year, and this does not seem realistic in at least the next

forty to sixty years.

The NSR as an international trade line has few chances of becoming economically profitable to

the point of really competing with traditional sea routes. However, the volatile situations in the

Middle East and Asia could suddenly alter the status quo. Were the Suez Canal to be closed, or

crossing the Hormuz or Malacca Straits made impossible, the Arctic may become a necessary

option and this would enable Moscow to impose higher fees than shipping companies would

currently accept.

Destinational traffic in the Russian Arctic will be dominated by private actors, mainly energy

firms, and patterns of commercial profitability, while strategic interests will drop back to second

place. The growing role of Norilsk Nickel is worth following closely.

The division of the Russian Arctic into three regions—the Barents and Kara Seas, the eastern

coastlines of the Arctic, and the Far East and Bering Straits—of rather separate economic

systems will increase. Strategic planning therefore must not see the Russian Arctic as a unified

area that faces similar issues, but must emphasize a micro-regional interpretation.

The role of Asian states in Arctic shipping is still little known, but it will probably be central.

The Arctic could therefore become a crucial element of the (im)balance between Moscow and

Beijing, and shape the future of their bilateral relations in a cooperative or defensive way.

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8. RUSSIA’S CHALLENGE: SPACE AND POPULATION PATTERNS

Not all the coastal Arctic states share the same relationship to the Arctic part of their territories;

for some it is marginal, while for others it is more central. For the United States and Denmark,

their Arctic territories, Alaska and Greenland respectively, are geographically detached from the

mainland. For Canada and Norway, their Arctic regions are territorially contiguous, but are

granted administrative autonomy in the name of their indigenous populations. For Russia,

however, the polar lands form an integral part of the national territory. They are fully part of the

―mental atlas‖ of Russians, and are geographically associated with the immense Siberian

continental mass and the country‘s Pacific coast. Another specificity of the Russian Arctic, and

not one of the least, is related to its population. Russia has about three-quarters of the overall

Arctic population (2.9 million out of four),1 but its indigenous population only makes up a very

small percentage of its own total. Indigenous peoples represent 80 percent of Greenland‘s

population, 50 percent of Canada‘s, 20 percent of Alaska‘s, and 15 percent of Arctic Norway,

but they make up less than 5 percent of that of Arctic Russia. The Russian Arctic is therefore a

populated, urban, and European one.

The Arctic Population

The immense Siberian hinterland on the eastern side of the Urals extends as far as the Pacific

across more than 12 million square kilometers. Its population is around 30 million inhabitants, or

about 20 percent of the country‘s total population. The administrative divisions go from west to

east: western Siberia, central Siberia, and the Far East opened onto the Pacific facade. They

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reflect both a history of conquest and a Moscow-centered point of view, since the administrative

criterion used is the degree of distance from the capital. Hence, there exists no administrative

division for the Arctic as such, but rather coastal sub-regions associated with different Siberias—

western, central, eastern, and the Far East. The population and economic divisions would be

more apposite, however, if there were conceived in terms of north and south. Two cultural and

economic worlds stand face to face. The first is that of relatively highly populated southern

Siberia. It has some numerous indigenous ethnic groups as well as an ancient Russian rural

settlement. These settlements follow the Trans-Siberian along the borders with Kazakhstan,

Mongolia and China, and go as far as Vladivostok. They participate more or less distinctly in the

economic dynamics emanating from Asia.2 Indeed, due to the growing relation with China, the

development projects fostered by the Russian state henceforth associate the Irkutsk region with

the Far East.

The second region is that of Arctic and sub-Arctic Siberia with its dispersed human settlement. It

is the least populated region in Russia, with a population density of less than one inhabitant per

100 square kilometers. Not only does it have indigenous populations with traditional ways of

life, but also European populations living in urban milieus. The north of the Eurasian continent is

an immense isolated geographic mass, which can be considered as an enclave, as its only

opening is onto the Arctic Ocean. This continental mass appears to be north-oriented because the

major Siberian Rivers flow into the Arctic: the Yenisei, Lena, Ob, Kolyma, Pechora, and

Severnaia Dvina. This Arctic Siberia was essentially developed during the 1930s-1950s as a

result of Soviet policy. In the regime‘s last decades, it began to be neglected. The last great

pioneer fronts, such as the industrial center of Angara or the BAM railway, were all situated

much further to the south.3

As it tries to shape the development of its Arctic regions, Moscow faces its own set of specific

issues.4 It is forced to articulate local issues in the High North with the larger trends affecting the

country: the population crisis and drastic changes in territorial management. Russia is currently

the only country in the world to be undergoing such a demographic crisis in peace time. It is the

only developed country that is so lacking in educated cadres, although it is second in the world

after the United States in terms of migration flows. Within the space of two decades Russia has

become an archipelago. Some modern and wealthy islands are developing among immense

territories that are emptied of their populations, are economically impoverished, include

secessionist elements (the North Caucasus), or are potentially threatened (the Far East). This

immense social, cultural, and geographical shake up impacts directly on the viability of Russian

strategies in the Arctic. How is it possible to make subsoil exploitation a viable proposition when

the Arctic regions are depopulating? Where is the labor force, required for everything from

simple materials handling to graduate executives, going to come from? How does Moscow

reshape the human geography of a country in the process of full economic and cultural

fragmentation?

8.1. The Russian Demographic Puzzle

The demographic crisis affecting Russia is not new. Throughout the twentieth century, the

Russian population had to contend with political crises of such magnitude–years of civil war,

Stalinist purges, the Second World War—that they strongly impacted on its demography in terms

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of falling birth rates, increases in mortality, and massive emigration. All these events had a

cumulative effect, since the smaller generations of the 1920s-1950s had statistically fewer

children. However, only after the 1970s did a Russian specificity develop, namely a major

demographic crisis in a period of peace. Since that era, Soviet statistics began to register a

demographic slowdown among its Slavic and Baltic populations, as compared with the

dynamism of the Central Asian and Caucasian peoples.5

This negative trend intensified in the 1990s, with the Russian population dropping from 148.5

million in 1992 to 141 million in 2009.6 During the first fifteen years of its independence, the

country lost about 770,000 persons per year. Since 2007, the figures have improved. In 2007 the

drop was ―only‖ 478,000 persons, while it was 362,000 in 2008,7 248,000 in 2009, and 241,000

in 2010.8 Even if the losses of people gradually reduce, Russia‘s overall demographic figures

remain particularly low for a developed country. Between the 1960s and perestroika, life

expectancy practically did not increase, and then it plummeted to a mere 60 years of age for men,

and 73 for women, or a decade less for women and fifteen years less for men as compared to

Western Europe. In 2006, average life expectancy was lower than it had been in 1959 during the

Khrushchev years.9 This demographic collapse is unprecedented. Russia is the only country to

experience such depopulation in peacetime, an eventuality that aligns it with patterns akin to

those not of Europe, but of countries in development.

There are several explanatory factors for this. First of all, the birth/death ratio has drastically

changed. Between 1992 and 2007, there were only 22 million births in Russia, but close to 35

million deaths, which is a drop of one-third and an increase of 40 percent respectively as

compared with the preceding Soviet period, and amounts to a total of more than 12 million

losses.10

Today, the birth rate per woman is around 1.3 to 1.4, which is much lower than the rate

required for natural regeneration (2.1). And it is much lower than it was during the last decades

of the Soviet regime, albeit on a par with those found in some European countries, such as

Germany. Until the mid-2000s, there were many more abortions than births: an average of 121

abortions per 100 births, one of the highest figures in the world.11

This ratio balanced out in

2006, and now there are about the same number of births and abortions, due to better knowledge

about chemical contraception. However, the fatality rate of young women has not ceased to rise.

Although the weak Russian birth rate is not unique in Europe, the exceptionally elevated death

rate is. The major explanation of this peacetime decline is indeed linked to the level of premature

deaths for males through violent means and accidents (crimes, domestic accidents, accidents at

work, road accidents). As for death by external causes, Russia‘s levels appear to be as high as

those of Burundi, Liberia, Sierra Leone, Angola, and Congo.12

Other figures are also disquieting,

in particular the health of the younger generations. Birth weight and height were lower for

children born in the 1990s than during the Soviet period, but the increase in the standard of living

in the 2000s has attenuated this phenomenon. Lastly, infectious and parasitic diseases have

increased, as have the numbers of people infected with HIV/AIDS. Alcohol abuse, the high rates

of smoking, poor diets, and the deterioration of the health care system also in part explain the

low life expectancy.

This Russian demographic collapse, however, is not uniform and essentially affects the Slavic

populations. Of the 20 regions of Russia that registered positive rates of population growth, 19

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are republics or autonomous districts populated in part by non-Russian populations. In Ingushetia

the natural increase has reached 1 percent, and in Chechnya 2 percent.13

These districts are

followed by Daghestan, the Yamalo-Nenets autonomous district, the Khanty-Mansy autonomous

district, Tuva, Chita, Tyumen, Altai, and Kabardino-Balkaria, which is to say two categories of

regions: those of the North Caucasus, which are of Muslim tradition, and those of southern and

northern Siberia, many of them which are of Buddhist tradition. These figures must, however, be

set in context. Although Chechnya has the highest birth rate in Russia, with 3.18 children per

woman, the figure is nonetheless low for populations of Muslim tradition.14

Between the two censuses of 1989 and 2002, the so-called Muslim populations increased by 26

percent. This very high figure is due not only to their higher birth rates but to processes of ethnic

re-identification that work to their advantage. The demographic balance is therefore unfavorable

to ―ethnic Russians.‖ Between the two censuses, their share of the country‘s total population

dropped from 81.5 percent to 79.8 percent, which is a net drop of 4 million persons. However, in

reality the figure is probably twice as high, as during this period several million Russians of the

Near Abroad immigrated to Russia and therefore somewhat offset the figures.15

The populations

of Muslim tradition are therefore about 14 million, or 10 percent of the population,16

although

some calculations announce close to 20 million persons, or about 15 percent of the population.

Legal and illegal immigration must also be included in this figure.

The projections of the UNDP, the Census Bureau, and the Russian State Statistics (Goskomstat),

despite their divergent methods of calculation, all agree that Russia‘s population will continue to

decline in the decades to come. The scenarios are more or less optimistic, forecasting that the

country will have between 122 and 135 million inhabitants by 2030, a figure that could collapse

to about 100 million by the mid-twenty-first century. Upon Putin‘s arrival in power and even

more so during his second term as president, the demographic question became one of the

Kremlin‘s subjects of predilection and was presented as a challenge to national security. The risk

of ―disappearance‖ of the ethnic Russian population receives a lot of media coverage.17

This

contributes to creating a deleterious atmosphere in the relationship with the minorities and

migrants, which has worked to heighten xenophobia.18

In the Concept of Demographic Policy for

the Russian Federation by 2025, decreed in 2007, the authorities set themselves an ambitious

objective: a stabilized population of 145 million persons with a life expectancy of 75 years of

age.

However, the measures implemented to respond to this challenge seem rather ineffective. The

focus has been placed on the birth rate, rather than on the mortality rate. A ―baby bonus‖ of close

to 10,000 dollars was implemented in 2006 to provide financial and home-related incentives for

women to have a second child, and it seems to have led to a modest rise in the birth rate. In 2009,

the authorities orchestrated a large self-congratulatory campaign, boasting of the first natural

population increases. Nevertheless, this slowing of the falling birth rate cannot be structurally

maintained. Even if Russian women of childbearing age do start having more children, the

overall number of them will decline by 20 percent by around 2025, which can only lead, rather

mechanically, to a fall in the birth rate. Russia no longer has enough youths to maintain the

population level. In 2009, the 15-19 age group was only 4.5 million and both the 5-9 and 10-14

age groups taken together totaled 6.5 million persons.19

In addition, the measures taken to fight

against the real scourge that is male mortality are practically non-existent. With the exception of

133

a campaign to fight against road accidents, the authorities do not seem concerned about losing

such a considerable share of their working-age human capital to violent deaths. Reviving births

through financial mechanisms is easier to do than is making significant modifications to the

social patterns linked to violent masculine deaths, whose explanatory factors are much more

complex.

8.2. Populating the Arctic: Indigenous Peoples and a Shrinking Russian Population

The Russian state has no specifically constituted Arctic region. It defines as High North (Dal‘nii

or Krainii Sever) sixteen regions across an area comprising 53 percent of its territory but only

five percent of its population, which enjoys special subsidies designed to offset the prices of

basic consumer goods. Of these sixteen regions, eleven are the homelands of indigenous

populations. The Russian Arctic coastal zone properly speaking comprised a bit more than 3

million square kilometers for 1.74 million inhabitants at the collapse of the Soviet Union,

including 1.5 living in urban areas.20

Indigenous peoples are few, ranging from a few hundred of

thousands to a few thousand, or even hundred, individuals, for a total of about 250,000 persons,

750,000 if Yakuts are added. Khanty and Mansy are based in the Khanty-Mansy autonomous

district; Nenets in the Yamalo-Nenets autonomous district; Dolgans, Nenets, Nganasan, Evenk,

and Enets in the Taimyr autonomous district; Chukchi, Koriaks, Inuits, and Yugakirs in

Chukotka and on the Kamchatka Peninsula. Only the Yakuts, in the Yakutia-Sakha autonomous

republic, are greater in number, comprising close to half a million persons.

To be added to this is the European Arctic region, which goes from the Kola Peninsula to the

Ural Mountains. It hosts Finno-Ugrian populations, each of which comprise several tens of

thousands, or hundreds of thousands, of persons: Sami on the Kola Peninula close to the

Norwegian border, Carelians along the border with Finland, but also Mordves, Udmurts, and

Mari around the Urals, and Komi in the autonomous republic of Komi. The populations of the

Russian European Arctic are largely Russified linguistically, religiously, and culturally, and have

ways of life closer to those of Russians than to those of the Siberian peoples, who still practice

reindeer herding, fishing, and hunting.21

The idea of preserving indigenous settlements and traditional ways of life was understood in a

paradoxical way by the Soviet regime. There were some massive phases of acculturation, and

also phases when a larger autonomy was granted.22

Today, these indigenous populations are

essentially left to themselves. They resumed their traditional activities in the 1990s when the

subsidies sent from Moscow abruptly ceased. Officially, those populations categorized as

inhabiting in an Arctic zone—that is, in any of the territories that are inaccessible by land for at

least half of the year—are entitled to federal subsidies, above all to fuel and food deliveries

during winter months, but they are largely insufficient to compensate for the lower standard of

living.23

Their life expectancy is often around ten years less than the Russian average, and they

have many more diseases, including psychological ones. Alcoholism is the major social scourge,

unemployment is very high, and youth seek to escape to the large towns.24

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Ethnic and Linguistic Groups in the Arctic

In practice, indigenous populations have less autonomy than those of the Canadian or Norwegian

Arctic. Administratively speaking, Russia is a federation comprising more than 80 administrative

subjects, including 20 autonomous republics and ten autonomous districts bearing the name of a

titular population, even if that population often forms only a minority.25

These administrative

entities are autonomous in theory, but in practice this autonomy is limited to the cultural and

linguistic rights of the titular populations. As regards all political and economic decision-making,

Russia is a centralized state that leaves little margin for maneuver to the regions. When some

regions do manage to negotiate with the center and receive a certain degree of autonomy, they

are mainly ones with no national qualification, primarily populated with ethnic Russians. Among

the national territories, only Tatarstan and the North Caucasus have some real autonomy.26

Russia has not ratified the 1969 ILO convention on indigenous rights, in particular because of the

clause on property rights.27

Legally, Russia distinguishes between the so-called ―small-numbered

peoples of the north‖ (malochislennye narody severa), which can count no more than 50,000

persons (39 groups are thus categorized), and indigenous peoples (korennye narody Rossii) in the

large sense, which is to say all the non-Russian populations or ―national minorities‖ that were

integrated into the Russian Empire during its phrase of expansion.

135

Contrary to what its federal structure would have us believe, and in contrast to Canada,

Denmark, and Norway, Russia does not grant its indigenous peoples any political autonomy, nor

does it consult them about subsoil exploitation. On paper, Russia grants many rights to its

indigenous populations, but these are not fully respected outside a framework of folkloric

activities and linguistic rights. Traditional knowledge, patterns of land use for traditional means

of subsistence like reindeer herding, and access to non-polluted rivers are not respected by major

extraction companies, whether public or private. Decision-making in the energy and mineral

sector is particularly centralized, resting in the hands of a few figures from Putin‘s inner circle.

The regional administrations often obtain subsidies from large companies, whether for primary

resources (low-priced gas and oil), or are transferred considerable taxes. Thus, Khanty-Mansiisk,

the capital of the autonomous region of the same name, has a higher GDP per capita than

Moscow of close to 40,000 dollars in 2007, which is on a par with that of the United States.28

But

those who stand to gain from it are the Russian urban populations, not the indigenous ones.

For two regions the indigenous problem is rather acute: the former Taimyr autonomous district,

which was merged into the region of Krasnoyark and where the vast range land for reindeer

surrounds the mining complex and city of Norilsk; and the Yamalo-Nenets autonomous district,

where the indigenous are obliged to learn to herd their reindeer between the gas wells and

pipelines. In both cases, Nenets have had regular confrontations with Gazprom and Norilsk

Nickel, and organized protests thanks to which they have become among the most widely media-

covered indigenous people in all of Russia.29

Given Moscow‘s participation in the Arctic Council

and international pressures around the question of indigenous peoples, the Kremlin has had to

soften its position and encourage these two major companies, as well as Rosneft, to show a

certain interest in the issue.

Shareholders of Sakhalin-2 have for instance committed to supporting the indigenous people,

while Gazprom is apparently going to provide compensation to the Nenets for pasture

degradation and land withdrawal. But the subsidies are mainly absorbed by the local

government.30

The main extraction companies also offer study grants, housing facilities,

schooling of children, and helicopter transport. The Russian Association of Indigenous Peoples

of the North (RAIPON), a permanent participant of the Arctic Council‘s Indigenous Peoples‘

Secretariat, unites 41 indigenous groups whose total population is around 250,000 people. It

therefore has an international platform at its disposal and has a unique visibility to be able to

apply pressure on Moscow, and express its concerns about environmental degradation and

inefficient indigenous autonomy.31

However for Russia, the major Arctic-related population issue does not pertain to the indigenous

populations, but instead to the Russian population, which also includes numerous Ukrainians and

Belarusians. Even more than in the Soviet period, Siberia‘s and Arctic‘s population is

characterized by its discontinuity, an absence of infrastructure, and transport-reliant small

isolates. The collapse of Soviet centralization has had an immense impact on the Arctic

settlements. Between 1987 and 2000 production fell by four-fifths in Yakutia and Chukotka;

some mining centers and diverse industrial settlements were totally abandoned; and several

military bases were closed. The suppression of federal salaries, which offered bonuses

sometimes as high as 250 percent of the base salary for spending five years in the High North,

accelerated the departures.32

The absence of work prospects, of a future for the children, the

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exorbitant prices of basic goods, the chronic shortage of heating, gas, and electricity, and the

poor links with the rest of the country have pushed millions of Russians to withdraw to the

European regions of the country since the fall of the Soviet Union.33

Between 1989 and 2006, one out of every six people emigrated from the Far North.34

Between

the censuses of 1989 and 2002, the regions of Magadan and Chukotka lost more than 50 percent

of their populations, Taimyr 30 percent, Nenets 25 percent, and even the Murmansk region,

despite being much better endowed, lost more than 20 percent. Yakutia has escaped with a

depopulation of only 12 percent.35

The port towns of Igarka and Tiksi lost about half of their

inhabitants between 1987 and 2005, while Dikson lost four-fifths of its inhabitants. The Far East

as a whole lost 17 percent of its population in two decades, going from 8 million inhabitants in

1990 to 6.4 million in 2010.36

The case is similar for the Siberian federal district, albeit the

figures are lower.37

Arctic Siberia today is the least inhabited large space in the world after

Antarctica and the Sahara Desert. Five major towns stand out: Murmansk (320,000 habitants),

Arkhangelsk (350,000), Vorkuta (80,000), Norilsk (130,000), and Novyi Urengoi (113,000), the

latter, being the last town of more than 100,000 inhabitants to have been built above the polar

circle in the 1980s.

Examining things on the micro scale, however, makes it possible to trace more subtle schemas.

All the towns linked to the hydrocarbons or minerals extraction had positive migration rates

during the 2000s. As such, the Yamalo-Nenets autonomous district registered positive figures,

with a population increase of 4 percent, largely due to the gas boom. Migrations between Arctic

regions are also been considerable.38

Small-size towns or rural settlements have been abandoned

and the inhabitants have moved to larger towns, able to provide a larger range of services. Ghost

towns have grown in number, creating poverty gaps in which the populations, which live mainly

from barter trade, do not have enough revenues to migrate.39

In cooperation with the World

Bank, the Russian government organized resettlements to some more southern towns for

Chukotka‘s non-working populations, however the logistical success has been limited and

resettlers have experienced difficulties adapting.40

Indeed place-specific social capital is not easy

to rebuild and many people refused to leave the region where they have built their lives despite

the deterioration in living conditions. In the second half of the 2000s, the migration figures

steadied somewhat, even if the region remains one of Russia‘s most ―in motion,‖ with young

generations on the search to study places or jobs and ready to migrate often.41

At the micro-level, it is therefore necessary to distinguish between two Arctics: regions in crisis

that have a declining Russian population and in which Russians and indigenous populations live

in difficult social conditions; and regions in full economic boom whose populations are more

educated, younger, more prone to migrate, and with more foreign migrants. Migrations in these

Arctic zones are therefore much more about labor market turnover than a one-way exodus.42

8.3. The Migration Future of Russian Workforce: on road to Polar Islam?

The development prospects for the Arctic presume a labor force that, in view of the country‘s

negative demographic dynamics, is lacking today. The average age in Russia will go from its

2005 figure of 40 years to 46 years by 2030, which is a mere 15 years less than male life

expectancy and 10-15 years less than the legal age of retirement (55 years for women and 60 for

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men). Today Russia has 2.5 persons of working age for every person over working age, but it

will have less than two by 2025. The phenomenon of population ageing, also very pronounced in

Western Europe and Japan, will take on a special characteristics in Russia given the statistical

weakness of the young generations and the massive poverty of the retired population. The

population of those between 15 and 34 years will fall to 35 percent by 2030. The 55-64 years age

group is the only one that will increase, but it does not work anymore.43

This demographic situation impacts directly on the workforce. The U.S. Census Bureau, for

instance, predicted a decrease of manpower availability in Russia of 16 percent for the period

between 2009 and 2025.44

A study conducted by the Russian Regional Policy Institute revealed

that by 2020, the country is expected to create 7 million new jobs thanks to the industrial projects

underway, but it will lose a million persons of working age per year. The rate of replacement of

Soviet generations entering retirement is thus by no means guaranteed, and even less is the

creation of new jobs. By 2020, the working-age population will go from close to 90 million to 77

million persons, and the accumulated shortage of educated cadres could hit the exorbitant figure

of 14 million persons.45

This figure will be enhanced by the brutal decrease of the student

population. The overall number of high school students almost halved between 1998 and 2009,

going from 20 million to 13 million. University student numbers are expected to drop from the

current 7.5 million to 4 million in the 2012-2013 academic year.46

According to the calculations

of the UNDP, to make up for the declining population over the first half of the twenty-first

century, Russia will need a cumulative net immigration of 25 million persons before 2050, and

of 32 million if it is to maintain its working-age population.47

Although the figures on migration are complex to collect and interpret, all the experts are in

agreement on the fact that Russia has become the second-largest receiving country of migrants in

the world, after the United States.48

According to Russian statistics, between 1992 and 2006 3.1

million persons emigrated from and 7.4 million immigrated to Russia, giving the country a

surplus of 4.3 million inhabitants.49

The figures of the UNDP and the Census Bureau are higher

and, depending on the calculations used, Russian statistics show a migration surplus of about 6

million people in the first fifteen years after the Soviet Union‘s collapse. The majority of Russian

emigrants left for Western Europe, Israel, Canada and the United States, while the majority of

immigrants came from among the 25 million Russians of the Near Abroad who left their

republics to settle in Russia.50

However, the prevailing pattern of ―repatriation‖ or ―ethnic

return‖ of Russians in the 1990s changed in the 2000s, during which time fewer Russians of the

Near Abroad immigrated, while the number of post-Soviet citizens belonging to the titular

nationalities increased. Requests for Russian citizenship today come mainly from Central Asian

or Azeri populations, especially as Russian law has simplified the procedures for obtaining

nationality for all former Soviet citizens, without distinction between ethnic Russians and non-

Russians.51

Thus in the census of 2002, the growth in the foreign born population from the

southern areas of the former Soviet Union literally exploded reaching 70 percent for Uzbekistan,

Kyrgyzstan, and Azerbaijan, and 150 percent for Tajikistan. 52

The Russian media and politicians have systematically sought to inflate the number of migrants,

and the topic has become one of the most debated in the public sphere, as it has in Western

Europe. Estimates vary from 5 to 15 million persons, but a range of between 7 and 10 seems

most likely.53

The distinction between legal and illegal migrants is very complex in Russia, since

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the country has a visa-free system with most CIS countries. It is therefore not illegal to cross the

border, but it is illegal to stay for work locally without registering with the appropriate

authorities. Lastly, Russian bureaucracy, because of its complexity and its corruption, plays a

part in making migrants clandestine by complicating the registration procedures. As in Europe,

companies also gain from employing illegal personnel and do all that they can to impede the

processes of legalization. The majority of these migrants are from Central Asia (Tajikistan,

Uzbekistan, and Kyrgyzstan) and the Caucasus (mainly Azeris), speak Russian more or less well,

and organize their migration through family and regional networks. Other migrants require a visa

to enter the country: the Chinese in particular (but also the Vietnamese), who reportedly number

about half a million, and are for the most part situated in the Far East.54

As in the United States or Europe, migration has developed in accordance with economic

patterns. The extractive industries, construction sites, the public service sector (waste disposal,

and road, rail, and water works), and personal services (domestic staff, security personnel, cooks,

and restaurant and cafe servers) are large users of migrant labor. Russian citizens tend to

disregard these professional niches, deeming the salaries insufficient, working conditions too

difficult, and the social prestige too low. The migrants are distributed geographically. Moscow

and its region largely dominate and attract the largest number of migrants due to its quality of

life and the prospects on offer for integration; followed by large cities such as St. Petersburg and

Yekaterinburg; industrial sites in the Urals; the south of the country where increasingly many

migrants are working in agriculture; and lastly the Far East, where they face competition from

Chinese migrants.55

Today the Russian Arctic is experiencing a double pattern of massive net migration from foreign

countries and of net out-migration to the rest of Russia.56

The oil and gas regions of Tiumen and

Khanty-Manty have become privileged destinations for Central Asian migrants, in particular the

Tajiks and Uzbeks seeking employment on extraction and construction sites. Already at the start

of the 2000s, half the workers on some construction sites in the Far East were foreigners, as were

from 70 to 90 percent of salaried workers in the Tyumen region.57

Russia‘s thirst for labor is only

going to increase. Developing the Yamal megaproject, for instance, will require about 50,000

workers. There are reportedly already close to 20,000 foreigners working there on infrastructure

construction sites .58

The state nuclear agency Rosatom has been criticized for employing illegal

migrants in its nuclear power plants, for not only do these migrants work in unsafe conditions for

poor salaries, but they are untrained and so threaten the safety of the plants.59

Lastly, the city of

Norilsk reportedly has a population of 50,000 migrants, mainly from Azerbaijan, Daghestan, and

Central Asia.60

The Arctic‘s difficult working conditions, and in particular the increase of shift-

work (short-term routes of duties on extraction sites from a base city), will necessitate finding

undemanding populations that come for the financial incentives on offer and not for the quality

of life—migrants.

Russia not only lacks cheap, but also qualified labor. The country combines two contradictory

patterns: a high level of schooling, but a low level of human capital. It is the only country in the

world where a population has so many graduates statistically speaking but the GDP per capita is

so low, labor productivity is in decline, new patents so few, and so-called ―social capital‖

(participating in voluntary associations, trust in society, subjective well-being, level of self-

assessed degree of personal control over one‘s own life) so weak.61

In 2009, a group of top

139

businessmen led by Severstal Group CEO Aleksey Mordashov launched an appeal to President

Medvedev for skilled workers. According to their surveys, 54 percent of Russian CEOs view

staff shortages as the biggest impediment to growth.62

This tendency will only intensify when

large deposits such as Shtokman and Yamal are under production, and it thwarts the

development potential of the Arctic regions, which necessitate advanced technologies and highly

specialized know-how.

The large Russian industrial projects of the years to come will require a qualified population.

These people could come from the Ukraine, where there is high unemployment among

graduates, especially in engineering sectors; from Azerbaijan, where the oil-related professions

have been developed for a long time; or also from the ―Far Abroad,‖ that is, Asia or the Middle

East. The arrival of graduate engineers from Central Asia is unlikely, since there are few of them

and when they emigrate, they target neighboring Kazakhstan because it is closer geographically

and culturally. The competition between Moscow and Astana to harness Central Asian graduate

labor will continue to grow in the coming decade.63

In 2010, Moscow made a decision to relax migration policy with respect to CIS countries, which

are the main purveyors of migrants, but this alone will not be enough to fulfill the needs of the

economy.64

Large Russian companies, for their part, have begun to organize lobbying in favor of

a pro-active migration intake policy, all the while remaining discrete on the topic given the

xenophobic tendencies of Russian society. Communication on the migration issue is a sensitive

question in terms of corporate brand.65

In any case, a favorable migration policy for CIS

countries will not be enough to compensate for the shortages of cadres, as such migration is

mainly unskilled. In coming years the Russian economy will require a targeted policy, as in

Canada and Australia, of inviting graduates from Asia, the Middle East, or maybe Central and

Southern Europe, on the condition that it is able to offer attractive living conditions and salaries.

The need to adopt a major policy to train engineers and management staff at Russian universities

is also making itself felt in the effort to offset the departure of Soviet generations.

Within the country‘s demographic trajectory, it remains difficult to ascertain the long-term role

that not only the migratory populations will play, but also the permanent settlement of these

migrants in Russia. If the Arctic projects of extraction and shipping become a reality, they will

draw labor into previously sparsely populated areas. Voluntary migration in response to demand

is less destabilizing than uncontrolled large-scale shifts in population, but it will drastically

change the ethnic composition in urban areas. Although for the moment a large share of the

migrants either wish to stay in Russia only for a few years, in order to build up capital that allows

them to return home, or to adopt seasonal strategies (migration from March to November), the

European and U.S. patterns show that a large share of the migrants eventually settle in the host

country and build their lives in it.66

These migrants are therefore destined to form a growing

share of the Russian population, and indeed of its work force.

The symbol of these evolutions is probably the mosque of Norilsk, the Nurd Kamal Mosque,

which is the northernmost mosque in the world and was inaugurated in 1998 for the town‘s

Muslim community. Between indigenous peoples and ethnic Russians, both suffering

demographic shrinkage, the future of Arctic Russia is probably that of a ―Polar Islam.‖ It can

also be supposed that Chinese migrants already based in the Far East might be looking to settle

140

further to the north. Two migration spurts, one of Chinese and another of Central Asians, might

thus enter into competition with one another. This is already the case in the large towns of the

Far East, where the construction sites in Chinese hands have been retaken over in recent years by

Central Asians.67

The capacity of Russian society to reformulate its identity and to build a new

citizenry is therefore going to be crucial. If Russia‘s Arctic future bears out on the economic

level, it would mean a rapid increase in Russia‘s Muslim and Central Asian population, an

identity dilemma that Moscow is currently unable to solve.

The Norilsk Mosque

8.4. The Fragmentation of the Territory: Russia as Archipelago

The ―unity in diversity‖ pattern, which stamped Russian history for many centuries, was born of

a traditional centralizing political voluntarism combined with incredible territorial expansion.

With the implosion of the Soviet Union, the unity/diversity balance fractured, and now the

country is in the process of undergoing an extreme fragmentation of its territory in terms of

population, access to wealth, human development indicators, and economic strategies.68

The

European regions, including the Urals, host 78 percent of the Russian population on only 25

percent of the territory.69

In addition to the special case of Moscow, which underwent

exceptional population inflation of 28 percent between 1989 and 2008, only three regions have

been receiving new inhabitants: the Moscow region, the Central federal district, and the Southern

federal district, all three of which have had net migration flows of between 12 and 17 percent.

The rest of Russia is depopulating. Wealth is also concentrated in the European regions:

Moscow, with 7.4 percent of the population, concentrates 23 percent of GDP, and the Tyumen

141

region, with 2.4 percent of the population, alone provides 18 percent of the country‘s tax

revenues, while the districts of Siberia and the Far East take up 66 percent of the territory but

produce only 15 percent of GDP.70

Several Russias coexist within one country.71

―Metropolitan Russia‖ is distinguished by its high

level of revenues, of inhabitants with tertiary degrees, and its many opportunities of access to

services and infrastructures in cities such as Moscow, St. Petersburg, Yekaterinburg,

Novosibirsk, and although more modestly, Rostov on Don, Nizhnii-Novgorod, Samara, Kazan,

and Omsk. The university and science towns can also be added to this, such as Tomsk and

Krasnoyarsk, which have lower revenues but a high degree of access to the outside world. The

―rent archipelago‖ includes provincial towns like Tyumen, Surgut, and Khanty-Mansiisk, which

have the highest revenues per capita of the country, and offer their inhabitants very generous

social policies and broad access to technologies. As for the ―archipelago of the Black Earth,‖

situated between Kursk, Tambov, Volgograd and Krasnodar, it is the only region to combine

economic and demographic growth. The interconnection of population density and small sizes

towns is close to that of Central Europe. While the living standard there is not as high as in

metropolitan Russia, the quality of life has improved.

The rest of the territory can be defined as second-class Russia: abandoned industrial towns in full

crisis, high unemployment rates, the pauperization of the former Soviet middle classes, an

agricultural desert, very poor access to transport, acute demographic crisis, etc. The specific case

of the North Caucasus must be added here. Though one of the poorest areas of the country, with

a high unemployment rate and very low per capita GDP, it also has demographic dynamism,

ethnic specificity, increasing political volatility, and considerable migration flows. Russia is

therefore an archipelago of wealthy, urban, economically dynamic islands in an ocean of

sparsely populated and undeveloped hinterland. The social inequalities are above all regional

inequalities.72

The country‘s extreme regional social, economic, and ethnic disparities are

difficult to reconcile with the traditional strong tendencies toward centralization of authority in

Moscow.

This territorial and social splitting is accompanied by security concerns. Even if some prisms

inherited from the Cold War still shape Russian perceptions of the West, today Russia takes into

account two categories of danger: non-traditional threats and strategic uncertainties.

Notwithstanding its rhetoric concerning NATO, which is offset by a certain pragmatism, Russia

no longer deems ―the West‖ to be a real security concern, and the level of strategic uncertainty

there is low. Relations with the United States and Europe can be tense for geopolitical reasons

(NATO or EU eastward enlargement), or on account of divergent political viewpoints, but the

risk of armed conflict has disappeared. This is not the case with the ―East,‖ mainly because of

the growing imbalance in relations with China. With the exception of the ―yellow peril‖ rhetoric,

linked to the differential in demographic power, Russia‘s security concerns toward China are not

connected to non-traditional threats, but to the geostrategic uncertainty that is a part of Beijing‘s

rise as a global power. For Moscow, which is not prepared to become China‘s ―junior partner,‖

this involves economic securitization of the Far East and the transformation of the region into a

―rampart‖ in case of tensions with China.

142

The third direction, the ―South,‖ is the most complex zone for Russian security concerns. It is a

very large entity with fuzzy borders, comprising the new federal district of the North Caucasus

that was created in 2010, as well as the three states of Transcaucasia (Armenia, Azerbaijan and

Georgia), the five states of Central Asia (Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, and

Turkmenistan), and two southern neighbors, Iran and Afghanistan. The security threats coming

from it are the most non-traditional (uncontrolled migrations, drug-trafficking, failing states,

nuclear issues, and so on), and geostrategic relations the most uncertain. In addition domestic

and foreign stakes overlap here more than anywhere else, as Russia‘s southern border is

uncertain. The North Caucasus is a secessionist part of the federation, and Russia‘s strategic

interest in Central Asia stretches as far as the border with Afghanistan.73

In this context of Russia‘s fundamental reshaping of its human geography and security concerns,

the Arctic is simultaneously present and forgotten. Forgotten because it is part of that second-

class Russia in terms of population, wealth, connection to the rest of the country, a phenomenon

which is heightened by the climatic difficulties with which its inhabitants have to contend. Some

Russian experts have militated for many years to have the Arctic recognized as a new federal

district, an administrative division which would allow for a better channeling of financial

allocations.74

Others would like the Duma to pass a special law to provide assistance to Arctic

regions, but this project is blocked by the lobbying from the southern regions, whose livelihood

also depends massively on the federal budget.75

However, the Arctic is also present because it

embodies Russia‘s future: an accepted, chosen future, one of exploiting Arctic resources and the

Northern Sea Route; but also a non-chosen future, viewed as an escape from the problems of the

North Caucasus and the threat of a potential losing of the Far East. Some experts and high

ranking officials do not hesitate, off the record, to wonder about the pertinence of the

considerable financial support provided to the North Caucasus, insofar as the region seems to be

lost to Moscow, and think that the country would do better to redeploy its grants and its human

forces toward the north.76

The conquest of the Arctic thus sets itself as a symbolic counterweight

to the loss of the North Caucasus.

8.5. The many Arctics of Russia

The Russian Arctic is anything but a unified region. Climatically, the 14,000 kilometers of

coastlines belong to different ecosystems. Several geographical subdivisions of its maritime part

are possible: the Barents, Kara, Laptev, and East Siberian seas do not have similar marine

systems, or even climatic conditions. The Arctic mainland can itself also be divided, for

example, into three major river basins—the Ob, the Yenisei, and the Lena—which, throughout

the watershed, link the Arctic coasts to the Ural mountains, Kazakhstan, and Mongolia. These

rivers basins intersect more or less with the administrative divisions of federal districts, namely,

the Urals, the Siberia and Far East districts. In terms of settlements and economic development,

unity is also minimal and several lines of division are possible. A schematic division could

separate out the western Arctic from the eastern Arctic, with the Taimyr Peninsula serving as the

line of demarcation. The former is more populated than the latter, and is bound to further develop

thanks to its subsoil resources and shipping industry, whereas the prospects of the latter are far

more limited. It is, however, necessary to increase the number of these divisions in order to get a

better view of the Russian Arctic‘s long-term prospects.

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8.5.1. The Murmansk-Arkhangelsk Arctic, a European Trans-border Region

The western part of the Russian Arctic, which stretches from Murmansk to Arkhangelsk, is a

specific region. Moscow has always considered it to be separate from the Siberian Arctic:

administratively it does not belong to the Northern Sea Route; its ports are ice-free all year

round; the Northern Fleet is stationed there to gain access to the Atlantic Ocean; and the region

comprises several nuclear plants as well as Russia‘s main naval industries. In addition, it is

relatively well-connected to the two capitals, Moscow and St. Petersburg, the large majority of

its population is made up of Russians, and, in the geographical imagination, it is part of what the

Russians call the ―Russian North,‖ (russkii sever) a region celebrated for its rich folklore. During

the Soviet period, its proximity to Finland and Norway turned it into an outpost of the Cold War.

Today, the dynamism of relations between Russia and Nordic countries has deeply transformed

the region, as have its prospects for the exploitation of hydrocarbons. In terms of domestic

geopolitics, the Murmansk-Arkhangelsk region, despite its specific geographical and climatic

conditions, is likely to become part of Russia‘s ―West,‖ that is, of the set of regions whose

economies are in interaction with the European neighbors.77

Besides, it is part of the federal

district of the north-west, which includes Moscow and Saint-Petersburg. This Arctic region,

linked to the Baltic one, is bound to become a driving force of Russia‘s relationship with Europe.

This European Arctic can be divided into three sub-regions: Murmansk; the Republic of Karelia,

which has access to the White Sea through the Baltic-White Sea Canal; and Arkhangelsk. The

future of the Kola Peninsula is that of the trans-border European region, while Arkhangelsk, even

if becomes integrated into the same trend, remains more remote and will have some time to wait

before it can benefit from these crossborder activities. The ice-free ports of Murmansk,

Severomansk, and Kandalaksha are now renovated as part of the modernization of the Northern

Fleet; the Murmansk port also hosts the Russian atomic icebreaker fleet. Murmansk and

Kandalaksha are the main commercial ports of the Russian western Arctic; many trawlers unload

their stock there; and the region is considered to be one of the richest in terms of fishing.78

The

extraction of minerals will continue to develop as the Kola Peninsula is particularly rich in rare

minerals. The exploitation of Shtokman should make the entire region more dynamic. The small

port of Teriberka/Vidyaevo will be the culminating point of a sea pipeline connecting gas fields

to the continent along 570 kilometers of sea bed. A transport and technological complex has been

planned for the port, hosting an unloading terminal, a factory for producing liquefied natural gas,

and installations for preparing the gas for transport overland. The overland gas pipeline between

Vidyaevo and Volkhov, of about 1,300 kilometers in length, will connect with Europe and

should enable the industries of the region to switch to gas.79

The region‘s future is also influenced by its Finnish and Norwegian neighbors. Transborder

cooperation has developed between Russia and the latter, the aim of which is to increase

crossborder activity and to unify the transportation routes. The Barents Euro-Arctic Transport

Area (BEATA) plans to improve the transport linkages by road, air, and rail between the Nordic

countries and the northwest regions of Russia, and to develop joint security projects on the

external maritime connections.80

In 2007, Moscow and Oslo set up a Vessel Traffic Centre to

facilitate the exchange of data between the Norwegian and Russian maritime transport

authorities.81

Many crossborder projects between Finland‘s and Russia‘s Karelia, between

Finland‘s Lapland, Norway‘s Finmark, and the Murmansk region have taken shape. Not being

144

part of the EU, Norway has implemented a simplified system of multi-entry visas for persons

living near the borders, called Pomor Visa, and this has led to a verifiable boom in transborder

tourism.82

A Pomor Zone for joint industry and commerce, with Kirkenes as the main center, has

also been created.83

At Arkhangelsk, the transformations have been much slower to take shape. The region‘s

economy is dominated by the naval industries of Sevmash and Zvezdochka at Severodvinsk,

Russia‘s Nuclear Naval Construction Center, and the fishing industry. Administratively, the

region also controls Novaya Zemlya and the Franz Joseph Islands, and could therefore also see

military and commercial activities develop much further to the north.84

The port of Arkhangelsk,

Russia‘s first port, created in 1584, is today in competition with of the port of Murmansk. It

would like to host the Northern Fleet if it is moved in order to free up Murmansk solely for

commercial activities. The Arkhangelsk port is in the process of being renovated in order to cope

with the revival of industrial fishing, but above all to handle the development of the

hydrocarbons transport through the Arctic. It henceforth has an oil-loading terminal at its

disposal as well as a Belokamenka floating storage unit for the oil production that arrives from

the Timan-Pechora region. The region can also pride itself on the Plesetsk cosmodrome, which is

likely going to play a central role in the development of satellite navigation in the Arctic, and as

well as of a new federal Arctic university.85

8.5.2. A Hydrocarbons and Mineral Central Arctic

Further to the east, a second Arctic includes the three autonomous districts of Nenets, Yamalo-

Nenets, and Taimyr, to which can be added the Republic of Komi and its mines, and the

autonomous district of Khanty-Manty, which partly belongs to the same hydrocarbons-related

industrial base. The Nenets district is attached to the Arkhangelsk region and therefore comprises

the furthermost eastern part of the federal district of the northwest. The districts of Yamalo-

Nenets and Khanty-Manty are under the administrative control of Tyumen, which is itself part of

the Ural federal district. And the Taimyr district was established as part of the region of

Krasnoyark, which is part of the Siberian federal district. This second Arctic, stretching from the

Urals to the Taimyr Peninsula, therefore has no administrative unity, whereas it has an economic

unity through its wealth of hydrocarbons and minerals.

This region and is set to be Russia‘s center of extraction in the twenty-first century, and to play a

key role in destination shipping along the Arctic routes, as it will be a large consumer of

transport. Its infrastructure is essentially directed toward the western, European regions, and not

toward Asia. This choice of orientation, due to historical reasons, could be undermined in the

decades to come, as the main future markets are bound to be Asian and not European ones. This

region has numerous industrial towns, such as Norilsk and Vorkuta, which have specialized in

mineral extraction since the 1930s, and includes others such as Khanty-Mansiisk, that embody

the oil boom of the 2000s, and, albeit more modestly Naryan-Mar, Noyabrsk, and Novyi

Urengoy. It is also the key Arctic/subarctic region in terms of indigenous populations, since the

Nenets and other less numerous groups live there in situations that are sometimes conflictual,

and in any case unequal, with the Russians.

145

The Yamal Peninsula

The industrial revival of this region fosters infrastructure projects. Some of the local

administrations, i.e. the Tyumen region, that of Cheliabinsk further to the south, as well as the

two districts of Nenets and Yamalo-Nenets, have initiated a huge project called the ―Urals

industrial - Urals Polar.‖ A new industrial-and-infrastructure complex will be built to ensure a

connection between the Arctic/subarctic regions and the old industrial core of the Middle and

Southern Urals, and thus to facilitate the export of resources to Europe.86

The Belkomur railway

project is planned to connect the railway infrastructures of Finland and Norway to the Trans-

Siberian by linking up several ends of lines between Arkhangelsk and Perm. This is designed to

facilitate the transportation of industrial products both to the east and to the west.

Lastly, a new line Obskaia-Bovanenkogo of close to 600 kilometers, the northernmost railway in

the world, became operational in 2010, and links the Bovanenskoe deposit to the so-called

―Transpolar Mainline.‖ The Salekhard–Igarka railway, an unfinished line dating from the Gulag

period, was partly completed in the 1970s so as to link up the deposits of Novyi Urengoy, and

Yamburg, and its extension to Vorkuta has remained functional. Since 2010, the Salekhard-

Nadym section has been in the process of being built to connect the railway system at both ends.

Lastly, a railway line from Norilsk, which is totally cut off from the remainder of the national

network, connects the mining towns of Talnakh, Norilsk, and Kayerkan with the Dudinka port

146

more than 300 kilometers away. It has not carried passengers since the end of the 1990s, but still

serves for the transport of minerals and has been modernized by Norilsk Nickel.

In terms of port infrastructure, only Dudinka, which was privatized by Norilsk Nickel, is really

efficient, whereas the other ports are waiting for the boom of Arctic resources to take off.

Simultaneously a sea and river port, Dudinka has the largest docking capacity of anywhere along

the Northern Sea Route: nine posts along a quay of 1.7 kilometers in length, added to which are

twenty others for river boats. The shipping between Dudinka and Murmansk, which takes place

all year round, is mainly used to export minerals and timber. Compared to Dudinka, the other

ports of the region are sorely lacking in sophisticated material. The port of Naryan-Mark in the

Nenets district, situated at a hundred kilometers from the mouth of the Pechora River, will

probably be turned into an oil port with the exploitation of the reserves of Timan-Pechora.87

That

of Amderma, which opens onto the South Kara Sea, only functions in a limited way, receiving

construction materials and coal. Moscow has planned to revive its activities by building a

railway from Vorkuta, and the exploitation of the South Kara Sea deposits could also redynamize

it. The settlement of Indiga, situated further west, could well become a deep-water port for the

transshipment of cargo and industrial exports from the Komi Republic.88

The small capital of the

Yamalo-Nenets district, Salekhard, has modest port activities, as do the Kharasavey and

Yamburg/Novyi ports: all three are specialized in oil products, and have hedged their bets on the

development of the Ob-Tazov deposits.89

Activities at the Dikson port, meanwhile, have pretty

much dried up, whereas that of Khatanga is primarily used only by Norilsk.90

8.5.3. The Sakha Arctic: Looking both North and South

The republic of Yakutia-Sakha, in the Lena basin, forms a third Arctic. Yakutia, today the self-

named Sakha, is the largest autonomous Arctic republic, with more than 40 percent of its

territory above the polar circle. It is presented as a symbol of the good terms existing between

indigenous populations (mainly the Yakuts, who are the most numerous of the Russian Great

North, but also some less populous groups) and Russians; each constituted about 45 percent at

the 2002 census.91

The republic has tried to develop its own Arctic brand by hosting numerous

international conferences on the subject, and by pointing up its indigenous culture and its

network of ecological protection zones, although the political establishment is distinctly

dominated by Russians and the industrial riches are at the core of development strategies. The

diamond, gold, and tin ore mining industries are the major focus of the economy.92

Yakutia-

Sakha advertises its geographical position as a way of campaigning for a revival of the Northern

Sea Route, but also and above all to open itself up onto the Asia-Pacific. It seeks to develop its

economic links with southern Siberia, in particular the Irkutsk region, and with the Primorie,

which serves it as a path of access to China, and does not conceal its commercial ambitions in

this direction.93

The Yakut administration traditionally presents the Northern Sea Route as its ―Arctic road of

life.‖94

It calls for the improvement of port infrastructure on its Arctic coastline between the

mouth of the Anabar River and that of Kolyma. It hopes to revive its main port, Tiksi, which is

situated on the Lena River and has fallen into partial degeneration, and that of Zelenyi Mys

located on the Kolyma River, which has practically been shut done. Both ports are seasonal ones.

In view of this, Yakutsk has proposed to host an Arctic rescue center with modern technology

147

and transport, in order to exploit its proximity to the Poliarnaya station, and the neighboring

geophysical observatory, and to exploit the fleet of Roshydromet, part of which is based at

Tiksi.95

The prospect of cross-continental transit of Asian ships has created great hopes for the

development of the republic‘s Arctic coastlines, which are the most isolated.96

For the whole of

Yakutia-Sakha, the Arctic Ocean-rivers connection is conceived as a means of unified

transport.97

Indeed, most freight is carried by waterways: the Lena Rivers and its tributaries

Vilyui and Aldan, but also the Yana, Indigirka, and Kolyma Rivers.98

Other transport means are also being developed. In 2008, a federal highway ―Kolyma‖

connecting Yakutsk to Magadan was opened for year-round use. A symbol of the particular link

which connects Sakha to the south of Siberia, a railway line connecting the capital Yakutsk to

the BAM (Baikal-Amur Magistral) over a distance of close to 800 kilometers, is in the process of

being finished (the line is planned to be completely opened in 2013). This will make it possible

to allow scattered populations to travel between regions, to export mineral productions from

Sakha to Asia, and, in exchange, to obtain Chinese goods at the lowest possible price. It is likely

that of the two Sakha strategies—that directed at the north and at the south—the latter will prove

to be more commercially dynamic than the former.

8.5.4. The Bering Arctic: the American and Asian Neighborhood

The final Russian Arctic is that of Chukotka and Kamchatka, which includes the Pacific facade

of the country which open onto the Bering, Chukchi and Okhotsk Seas. This Arctic is probably

the most marginalized in Russia. It has a particularly small population, has been in a full-on

migration crisis since the 1990s, has high unemployment among Russians, and its indigenous

peoples have been forced to take up their traditional activities again due to a lack of central

allowances. Proximity to the United States turned it into one of the places of tension during the

Cold War, but today Moscow dreams of a peaceful connection with Alaska, and even more with

Asia. Asian dynamism appears to have imposed itself as the only opportunity for the economic

revival of this region, supposing that transcontinental shipping via the Arctic really takes off, and

that fishing can get off the ground again. The population of this fourth Arctic is essentially

Russian and Ukrainian, while there are a statistically small number of indigenous peoples, and

Chinese migrants are limited for the time being to the border regions of the Amur and the

Primorie, but not further to the north.

The region‘s prospects of subsoil exploitation still remain too imprecise for any hopes to be

placed in an economic revival due to hydrocarbons or minerals. But other elements of

development have to be taken into account. For example, over-flights above the Primorie-

Kamchatka-Magadan region (the Trans-Arctic Air Corridor) are booming for routes between

North America and Asia. The Eyjafjallajökull Volcano eruption in 2010 suddenly brought to

light the importance of a transit air corridor able to connect the Eurasian and American

continents via the North Pole. This major global evolution therefore requires the development of

rescue systems in the over-flight regions. The administration of Chukotka has thus proposed the

creation of a Crisis Management Center and Rescue center, to be based in Anadyr under the

control of the Ministry of Emergency Situations.99

Growing Arctic tourism, coupled with the

volcanic tourism of the Kamchatka Peninsula, also prompts better management of human

148

security in the region, which might potentially make it possible to revitalize the small settlements

in the most isolated regions.

The main regional economic project remains the transformation of the port of Petropavlovsk-

Kamchatskii in the bay of Avacha into a hub for North Pacific trade.100

The port has kept up its

industrial fishing activities, but with far less intensity than during the Soviet period.101

Part of the

Pacific Fleet is stationed there, as well as at Viliuchinsk, albeit under the command of

Vladivostok. Prospects of a trade boom, however, seem limited: not even the ports furthest south

such as Vladivostok and Nakhodka have rhythms of development able to rival the major Asian

ports. In addition, Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskii is situated on the peninsula, and so it would be

necessary to have the goods transported to the continent.102

On the Arctic coast of Chukotka,

Pevek, the world‘s northernmost port, was deserted by its population in the 1990s.103

Projects to

revive it will not be able to change things in any substantial way, however, since the port is

exclusively seasonal, and its infrastructures are old. It still serves as an outlet for the gold

extracted from the Kolyma basin, one of the only industries that remained active in Chukotka,

but which only operates in summer. The Bilibino nuclear power plant, the northernmost in the

world, has been in operation since the 1970s.104

Any kind of port development is based on the capacity to connect remotely situated territories

deep into the country. Hitherto, wintertime ice roads have been the main transportation system

between remote settlements in the Arctic, but climate change could have the effect of rendering

these traditions obsolete. Railways projects are therefore likely to take shape, although the

extreme climate conditions and ever increasing permafrost melt present considerable

technological problems. The Amur-Yakutsk could thus be extended to Uelen in Chukotka, which

is Russia‘s easternmost settlement. The possibility has also been raised of building a 5,000-

kilometer railway line to connect the port of Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskii to the Siberian

continent and to the Primorie region. This line would join the BAM and then the Trans-Siberian,

but the project seems overweening in view of the freight opportunities, and will involve huge

detours to bypass the Kamchatka Peninsula by the Magadan region. In addition, the Russian

Transport Development Strategy for 2030 plans the construction of a railway line connecting

Russia to Alaska via a tunnel beneath the Bering Strait (less than 100 kilometers wide). An

investment promotion agency, InterBering, has been created to promote this utopian project: the

agency calculates its cost at around 100 billion dollars, for a potential of 100 million tons of

freight.105

The hope of Vladimir Yakunin, the CEO of Russian Railways, to see a passenger

railway line going between New York and London via Siberia, seems even more disconnected

from reality.106

*****

Russia has to contend with multiple dilemmas. Some of them relate to its exit from the Soviet

framework, as well as to social dynamics and the economic legacy bequeathed by the preceding

regime; some others, probably the most challenging ones, are yet to come. One of these is the

population issue. If the ageing of the population is not in itself a Russian specificity, the country

nonetheless has many demographic particularities which can be explained by social and cultural

arguments: an unacceptable rate of male mortality; a dearth of younger generations and women

of childbearing age; a glaring lack of skilled people, and university bodies that are poor at

149

creating engineering and technological innovation. Added to this is the migration challenge: thus

far, Russian public policies have had no success in better integrating the millions of migrants

(schooling of their children, access to health care systems, protection against the violence

committed against them, etc.) or in creating a new civic identity. The Russian social fabric is

therefore majorly destructured and unbalanced.

The second challenge is related to territory management. Russia has always been a centralized

state, in spite of some localized experiences of partial decentralization in the nineteenth century

and the 1920s. The current territorial polarization weighs heavily on Russia‘s self-representation,

but also on its political legitimacy, and the country‘s social unity. Russia is Europeanizing

massively: its material wealth (GDP per capita), and social and cultural wealth (education, travel

abroad, access to the media) is mostly concentrated in the country‘s European regions. The rest

of the territory is either in a situation of economic and social crisis (Siberia, North, and Far East)

or in a state of political crisis (North-Caucasus). The imbalance in population issues intersects

with that of territory: in the European parts people are richer, younger, and healthier; in the

Siberian regions people are poorer, older and not as well cared-for, with the exception of the

North Caucasus, which is poorer but not older.

The conjunction of these two challenges—population and territorial management—is central to

the future of the Russian Arctic: Moscow‘s grand ambitions for its Arctic regions will not

become a reality unless a joint solution is found for both problems. But such would require the

country to undergo deep identity, social, and political transformations. Space can be a blessing as

much as a burden. Russia‘s spatial representation of itself is bound to change: the North

Caucasus has become a foreign region, the demographic dynamism of the Buddhist populations

of southern Siberia has strengthened their specificity; the feeling of a lack of control on the Far

East is growing. Russian territorial identification has withdrawn into a space stretching from the

borders of the EU to the Urals, from Saint-Petersburg to Stavropol. Will the Arctic form part of

these areas where Russia‘s future identity will find itself ―at home,‖ or of those zones left

abandoned? As applied to the Arctic, will the historical and ideological pattern of appropriation

of new territories (osvoenie) foster the birth of a new Russian identity or an updated version of

the old one? Which Arctic regions will be integrated, and which forgotten? The four ―Arctic‘s‖

briefly described here will probably not all thrive in the much-expected revival to occur during

the twenty-first century.

Key Findings and Pathways to the Future

Even if in years to come the birth rate slowly rises—as already happens to be the case—and the

male mortality from violent death decreases—which is not presently the case—the population

deficit, in particular of youths and women of childbearing age, will continue and the Russian

population will drastically decline in the decades to come.

Russia lacks skilled people. Soviet-trained generations are entering retirement, the country is

enduring a steady brain-drain to the West, technical professions are lacking in motivation, and

student numbers have collapsed. All of these factors will plunge the country into an

unprecedented economic and social dilemma in the two decades to come.

150

Immigration is the only viable solution to Russia‘s economic development. However, this

implies an in-depth alteration of the narrative concerning Russian national identity, not to

mention the establishment of efficient public policies of migrant integration, which do not yet

exist.

The major industries such as Gazprom and Norilsk Nickel are developing lobbying rationales to

foster a policy of massive migration. However, the Kremlin has founded its political legitimacy

on nationalist and xenophobic discourses. If the political authorities do not recognize the

economic rationality of immigration, then they will have to revise their ambitions for

development downwards due to a lack of labor power, but without being able to avoid already

tense interethnic tensions.

If Russia can attract lots of migrants from Central Asia and the Caucasus, these latter will occupy

positions at the bottom of the social ladder. This immigration will therefore not make up for the

deficit in its skilled workforce, which will have to be made up of workers from other countries,

probably other Asian ones.

If the great industrial sites of the Arctic do eventually concretize, the south-north migration flows

will increase in magnitude, and the phenomenon of ―polar Islam‖ will become one of the shaping

components of Russia.

The fragmentation of the Russian territory will increase. The North-Caucasus is probably lost,

the Far East risks being rocked by autonomist tensions, and the Russian population will continue

to remain concentrated in the country‘s European regions. For Moscow, at issue is learning

whether the population will ―withdraw‖ only into the country‘s west, or if more propitious

conditions will also be experienced in the north.

Russia‘s population/wealth/territory gap will create major problems for the state‘s political

survival, a state that has always conceived of itself in centralized terms. The challenge to be met

is therefore much more than an economic or demographic challenge. It requires an in-depth

change of Russia‘s historical patterns of development. Space can be blessing, but also a burden

for Russia.

The future of the Russian Arctic will be a divorced one. The successful development of the

European part, between Murmansk and Arkhangelsk, is the most likely; that of the Central

Arctic, founded on hydrocarbons and minerals, is potential but not guaranteed, while a revival in

Sakha-Yakutia and East Siberia seems quite unrealistic.

151

NOTES

Chapter 1

1 R. Howard, The Arctic Gold Rush: the New Race for Tomorrow‘s Natural Resources (London and New York:

Continuum, 2009). Several recent works examine the Arctic in the context of potential geopolitical and legal

conflict. Cf. R. Sale, and E. Potapov, The Scramble for the Arctic: Ownership, Exploitation and Conflict in the Far

North (London: Frances Lincoln, 2010); A. Anderson, After the Ice: Life, Death, and Geopolitics in the new Arctic

(New York: Smithsonian Books, 2009); M. Byers, Who owns the Arctic? Understanding Sovereignty Disputes in the

North (Vancouver: Douglas and McIntyre, 2009); D. Fairhall, Cold Front: Conflict ahead in Arctic Waters (London,

New York: I. B. Tauris, 2010); B. Scott Zellen, Arctic Doom, Arctic Boom? The Geopolitics of Climate Change in

the Arctic (Santa Barbara, Denver, Oxford: ABC Clion 2009). Note that many of these works deconstruct the

region‘s potential for conflict. 2 http://jasonschaeffer.wordpress.com/category/green/

3 R. McGhee, The Last Imaginary Place. A Human History of the Arctic World (Chicago: The University of Chicago

Press, 2005). 4 D. Wood, The Power of Maps (The Guilford Press, 1992), J. Black, Maps and Politics (London: Reaktion Books

Ltd., 1997); M. Monmonier, Drawing the Line: Tales of Maps and Cartocontroversy (Henry Holt & Co, 1996) 5 C. Emmerson, The Future History of the Arctic (New York: Public Affairs, 2010).

6 North Meets North. Navigation and the Future of the Arctic (Reykjavik: Iceland Ministry for Foreign Affairs

Working Group, 2005), p. 11. 7 NOAA, State of the Arctic, October 2006, http://www.pmel.noaa.gov/pubs/PDF/rich2952/rich2952.pdf

8 http://www.fao.org/fishery/area/Area18/en

9 S. Joy Hassol, AICA Report. Impacts of a Warming Arctic (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), pp. 18-

19. 10

T. Koivurova, ―Governance of protected areas in the Arctic,‖ Utrecht Law Review, vol. 5, no. 1, 2009, p. 46. 11

http://arctic-council.org/article/about 12

Koivurova, ―Governance of protected areas in the Arctic.‖ 13

A. J.K. Bailes, ―Options for closer cooperation in the High North: What is needed?,‖ in Sven G. Holtsmark, and

Brooke A. Smith-Windsor (eds.), Security Prospects in the High North: Geostrategic Thaw or Freeze? (Rome:

NATO Defence College, 2009), pp. 47-48. 14

The Barents Euro-Arctic Region Cooperation and Visions of the North, no date,

http://www.bd.lst.se/publishedObjects/10000666/barentsbroschyr.pdf 15

The Conservation of Arctic flora and fauna (CAFF), the Protection of the Arctic Marine Environment (PAME),

Emergency Prevention, Preparedness and Response (EPPR), and the Arctic Monitoring and Assessment Program

(AMAP). 16

Koivurova, ―Governance of protected areas in the Arctic,‖ pp. 44-60. 17

D.R. Rothwell, and C.C. Joyner, ―Polar Oceans and the Law of the Sea,‖ in A.G. Oude Elferink and D.R.

Rothwell (eds.), The Law of the Sea and Polar Maritime Delimitation and Jurisdiction (Leiden, Boston: Martinus

Nijhoff Publishers, 2001), pp. 1-22. 18

T. Koivurova, ―Limits and possibilities of the Arctic Council in a rapidly changing scene of Arctic governance,‖

Polar Record, no. 46, 2010, p. 146. 19

O.R. Young, ―Arctic Governance - Pathways to the Future,‖ Arctic Review on Law and Politics, no. 1 2010, pp.

164-185. 20

T. Koivurova, ―Alternatives for an Arctic Treaty—Evaluation and a New Proposal,‖ European Community &

International Environmental Law, vol. 17, no. 1, 2008, pp. 14-26. 21

O.R. Young, ―Arctic Governance - Pathways to the Future,‖ Arctic Review on Law and Politics, no. 1 2010, pp.

164-185. 22

O. Tunander, ―Geopolitics of the North: geopolitik of the weak. A Post-Cold War Return to Rudolf Kjellén,‖

Cooperation and Conflict, vol. 43, no. 2, 2008, pp. 164– 184. 23

Howard, The Arctic Gold Rush, pp. 70-71. See also M.H. Nordquist, J. Norton Moore, and A.S. Skaridov (eds.),

International Energy Policy, the Arctic and the Law of the Sea (Leiden, Boston: Martinus Nijhoff, 2005). 24

A.J.K. Bailes, ―Options for closer cooperation in the High North: What is needed?,‖ p. 32.

152

25

H. Conley, J. Kraut, ―U.S. Strategic Interests in the Arctic. An Assessment of Current Challenges and New

Opportunities for Cooperation,‖ CSIS Europe Program Working Paper, April 2010. 26

On the Copenhagen school on securitization, see H. Stritzel, ―Towards a Theory of Securitization: Copenhagen

and Beyond,‖ European Journal of International Relations, vol. 13 no. 3, 2007, pp. 357-383. 27

Speech of President Medvedev at a meeting of the Russian Security Council on Protecting Russia‘s National

Interests in the Arctic, September 17, 2008, http://eng kremlin.ru/

text/speeches/2008/09/17/1945_type82912type82913_206564.shtml 28

K. Åtland, ―Mikhail Gorbachev, the Murmansk Initiative, and the Desecuritization of Interstate Relations in the

Arctic, Cooperation and Conflict,‖ Journal of the Nordic International Studies Association, vol. 43, no. 3, 2008, pp.

289-311. 29

Prime Minister Vladimir Putin addresses the international forum ―The Arctic: Territory of Dialogue,‖ September

23, 2010, http://premier.gov.ru/eng/events/news/12304/ 30

Osnovy gosudarstvennoi politiki Rossiiskoi Federatsii v Arktike na period do 2020 g. i dal‘neishuiu perspektivu,

September 18, 2008, http://www.scrf.gov ru/documents/98.html 31

―Vystuplenie na zasedanii Soveta Bezopasnosti, ‗O zashchite natsional‘nykh interesov Rossii v Arktike‘,‖

Kremlin.ru, September 17, 2008, http://www kremlin.ru/transcripts/1433 32

On the ―National Security Strategy of the Russian Federation until 2020,‖ see Russian Analytical Digest, no. 62,

2009. 33

J.W. Parker, ―Russia‘s Revival: Ambitions, Limitations, and Opportunities for the United States,‖ INSS Strategic

Perspectives, no. 3, 2011, p. 1. 34

P. Baev, and D. Trenin, The Arctic. A View from Russia, 2010 (Washington, Carnegie Endowment for

International Peace, 2010). 35

I. Danchenko, E. Downs, and F. Hill, ―One Step Forward, Two Steps Back? The Realities of a Rising China and

Implications for Russia‘s Energy Ambitions,‖ Brookings Policy Paper, no. 22, August 2010; M.A. Smith, The

Russo-Chinese Energy Relationship (Defence Academy of the United Kingdom, October 2010). 36

C.L. Antrim, ―The Next Geographical Pivot. The Russian Arctic in the Twenty-first Century,‖ Naval War College

Review, vol. 63, no. 3, 2010, pp. 15-37. 37

P. Baev, Russia‘s Race for the Arctic and the New Geopolitics of the North Pole (Washington, D.C.: The

Jamestown Foundation, October 2007). 38

C. Gaddy, and B.W. Ickes, ―Resource Rents and the Russian Economy,‖ Eurasian Geography and Economics,

vol. 46, no. 8, 2005, pp. 559-583. 39

C. Gaddy, and A. Kuchins, ―Putin‘s Plan: The Future of ‗Russia Inc.‘,‖ The Washington Quarterly, vol. 31, no. 2,

2007, pp. 117-129. 40

F. Hill, and C. Gaddy, The Siberian Curse: How Communist Planners Left Russia out in the Cold (Washington,

D.C.: Brookings Institution Press, 2003). 41

Ibid., p. 187. 42

United Russia‘s Regional Conference on ―The Strategy for Social and Economic Development of the North Far

East until 2020,‖ http://premier.gov.ru/events/news/13223/ 43

M. A. Smith, Medvedev and the Modernisation Dilemma (The Defence Academy of the United Kingdom, no. 15,

2010). 44

See for instance Reshaping Economic Geography (Washington, D.C.: The World Bank, 2009). 45

A. Kuchins, Alternative Futures for Russia to 2017 (Washington, D.C.: The Center for Strategic and International

Studies, 2007). 46

F. Nansen, Through Siberia—The Land of the Future (New York: Frederick A. Stokes Co., 1914, republished by

Books for Libraries Press, 1972).

Chapter 2

1 M. Hulme, Why We Disagree About Climate Change: Understanding Controversy, Inaction and Opportunity

(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009). 2 J. Hoggan, and R. Littlemore, Climate Cover-Up: The Crusade to Deny Global Warming (Toronto, Vancouver:

Greystone, 2009). 3 This movement, based on environmentalist, anti-consumerist and anti-capitalist ideas, is well-developed in Europe,

and especially in France and Italy. On this theory, see ―Economic Degrowth for Sustainability and Equity‖, January

28, 2009, http://www.degrowth net/

153

4 For more on this issue, see the journal Mitigation and Adaptation Strategies for Global Change.

5 S. Solomon, D. Qin, M. Manning, Z. Chen, M. Marquis, K.B. Averyt, M. Tignor, and H.L. Miller (eds.),

Contribution of Working Group I to the Fourth Assessment Report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate

Change (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007). 6 G. Schmidt, and J. Wolfe, Climate Change: Picturing the Science (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2009);

A. Dressler, and E.A. Parson, The Science and Politics of Global Climate Change: A Guide to the Debate

(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010). 7 See the IPCC Climate Change 2007: Synthesis Report,

http://www.ipcc.ch/publications_and_data/publications_and_data_reports.shtml#1 8 WWF, Arctic Climate Feedbacks: Global Implications (Oslo: WWF International Arctic Program, 2009).

9 AICA Report. Impacts of a Warming Arctic, p. 22.

10 Ibid., p. 10.

11 More details in NOAAO, State of the Arctic, pp. 15-27.

12 F. Lasserre, ―High North Shipping. Myths and Realities,‖ in Holtsmark, and Smith-Windsor (eds.), Security

Prospects in the High North: Geostrategic Thaw or Freeze?, p. 180. 13

J.C.J. Nihoul, and A.G. Kostianoy (eds.), Influence of Climate Change on the Changing Arctic and Sub-Arctic

Condition (New York: Springer, 2009). 14

AICA Report. Impacts of a Warming Arctic, pp. 92-97. 15

M.L. Parry, O.F. Canziani, J.P. Palutikof, P.J. van der Linden, and C.E. Hanson (eds.), Contribution of Working

Group II to the Fourth Assessment Report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (Cambridge:

Cambridge University Press, 2007), chapter 15 on ―Polar regions (Arctic and Antarctic),‖ pp. 664-665. 16

AICA Report. Impacts of a Warming Arctic, pp. 34-39 17

NOAA Arctic Report Card. Update for 2010, p. 1, www.arctic.noaa.gov/reportcard/ 18

AICA Report. Impacts of a Warming Arctic, pp. 18-19. 19

Assessment Report on Climate Change and its Consequences in Russian Federation. General Summary (Moscow:

Roshydromet, 2008), p. 11. 20

Ibid., p. 7. 21

Ibid., p. 13. 22

The Impact of Climate Change on the Russian Arctic and Paths to Solving the Problem (Moscow: WWF, 2008),

p. 12. 23

W. Ostreng, ―Looking Ahead to the Northern Sea Route,‖ Scandinavian Review, vol. 90, no. 2, 2002, p. 78. 24

Assessment Report on Climate Change and its Consequences in Russian Federation, p. 16. 25

R. Perelet, S. Pegov, and M. Yulkin, ―Climate Change. Russia Country Paper,‖ in Fighting Climate Change:

Human Solidarity in a Divided World. Human Development Report (Washington, D.C.: UNDP, 2008), p. 23. 26

For more details, see Climate Change in Russia: Research and Impacts (London: Climate Change Risk

Management, May 2008), pp. 54-77. 27

Russia. The Impact of Climate Change to 2030. A Commissioned Research Report (Washington, D.C.: National

Intelligence Council, 2009), p. 16. 28

Assessment Report on Climate Change and its Consequences in Russian Federation, p. 8. 29

Climate Change in Russia: Research and Impacts, p. 6. 30

More in I.E. Chestin, and N.A. Colloff (eds.), Russia and Neighbouring Countries: Environmental, Economic and

Social Impacts of Climate Change (Moscow: WWF and Oxfam, 2008), pp. 22-25. 31

C. ZumBrunnen, ―Climate Change in the Russian North. Threats Real and Potential,‖ in E. Wilson Rowe (ed.),

Russia and the North (Ottawa: University of Ottawa Press, 2009), p. 69. 32

Strategic Prediction for the Period up to 2010-2015 of Climate Change Expected in Russia and its Impacts on the

Sectors of the Russian National Economy (Moscow: Roshydromet, 2006), p. 17. 33

N. Lemeshko, and M. Nikolaev, ―Climate change, vulnerability, and adaptation in agriculture. The situation and

state of art in Russia,‖ ADAGIO International Symposium, Sofia, 10-11 March 2008; and N. Lemeshko, ―Climate

change, vulnerability, and adaptation in agriculture. The situation and state of art in Russia‖, ADAGIO International

Symposium, Vienna, 22-24 June 2009. 34

N. Dronin, and A. Kirilenko, ―Climate Change and Food Stress in Russia: what if the Market transforms as it did

during the past Century?,‖ Climatic Change, vol. 86, 2008, pp. 123-150. 35

Chestin, and Colloff, Russia and Neighbouring Countries: Environmental, Economic and Social Impacts of

Climate Change, p. 19

154

36

J. Dobrolyubova, Climate Change Effects and Assessment of Adaptation Potential in the Russian Federation

(Moscow: Russian Regional Environmental Centre, November 19-20, 2007). 37

Russia. The Impact of Climat Change to 2030. A Commissioned Research Report, p. 27. 38

Assessment Report on Climate Change and its Consequences in Russian Federation, p. 8. 39

Strategic Prediction for the Period up to 2010-2015 of Climate Change Expected in Russia, p. 18. 40

Ibid., p. 19. 41

Ibid., p. 15. 42

Chestin, and Colloff, Russia and Neighbouring Countries: Environmental, Economic and Social Impacts of

Climate Change, p. 14. 43

Assessment Report on Climate Change and its Consequences in Russian Federation, p. 17. 44

Ibid., p. 19. 45

Strategic Prediction for the Period up to 2010-2015 of Climate Change Expected in Russia, p. 8. 46

Ibid., p. 13. 47

Russia. The Impact of Climat Change to 2030. A Commissioned Research Report, p. 20 48

More details in Climate Change in Russia: Research and Impacts, pp. 36-45. 49

Russia. The Impact of Climat Change to 2030. A Commissioned Research Report, p. 28. 50

O. Anisimov, and S. Reneva, ―Permafrost and changing climate: the Russian perspective,‖ Ambio, vol. 35, 2006,

pp. 169-175. 51

G. Mazhitova, N. Karstkarel, N. Oberman, V. Romanovsky, and P. Kuhry, ―Permafrost and infrastructure in the

Usa Basin (Northeast European Russia): Possible impacts of global warming,‖ Ambio, vol. 33, no. 6, 2004, pp. 289-

294. 52

Yu. Morozov, ―The Arctic: The Next ‗Hot Spot‘ of International Relations or a Region of Cooperation?‖,

Carnegie U.S. Global Engagement Program, December 16, 2009,

http://www.carnegiecouncil.org/resources/articles_papers_reports/0039 html 53

ZumBrunnen, ―Climate Change in the Russian North. Threats Real and Potential,‖ p. 69 54

Interview with Ili Baryshev and Anatoli Kuliev, Arctic Section at the Likhachev‘s Institute for Cultural Heritage,

Moscow, September 16, 2010. 55

M. Kulakovskaia, ―Izmenenie klimata: gipotezy i fakty,‖ Golos Rossii, August 26, 2010,

http://rus.ruvr.ru/2010/08/25/17231067.html 56

Strategic prediction for the period up to 2010-2015 of climate change expected in Russia, p. 24. 57

Assessment Report on Climate Change and its Consequences in Russian Federation, p. 12. 58

Quoted by ―Russia‘s Lackluster Record on Climate Change,‖ Russian Analytical Digest, no. 79, 2010, p. 15. 59

―Russian weather data cherry picked by UK climatologists,‖ Russia Today, December 18, 2009,

http://rt.com/news/data-cherry-picked-climatologists/ 60

―German scientist refutes Putin on climate change,‖ The Local, August 23, 2010, http://www.thelocal.de/sci-

tech/20100823-29349 html 61

―Scientist scorns Putin's climate musings,‖ The Sydney Morning Herald, August 25, 2010

http://www.smh.com.au/environment/climate-change/scientist-scorns-putins-climate-musings-20100824-13qba html 62

S. Shuster, ―Mironov tells Kyoto Experts the World is getting cooler,‖ Moscow Times, May 28, 2007. 63

See Sergei Mironov‘s speech, April 28, 2010, http://mironov.info/events/9993.php 64

S. Charap, and G.I. Safonov, ―Climate Change and Role of Energy Efficiency,‖ in A. Aslund, S. Guriev, and A.

Kuchins, Russia after the Global Economic Crisis (Washington, D.C.: Peterson Institute for Internal Economics,

2010), p. 130. 65

A. Korppoo, ―The Russian Debate on Climate Doctrine, Emerging issues on the road to Copenhagen,‖ FIIA

Briefing Paper, no. 33, June 5, 2009. 66

N. Kozlova, ―Strashnei vsego—pogoda v dome. Sovet bezopasnosti ob ugrozakh i problemakh, kotorye neset

izmenenie klimata,‖ Rossiiskaia gazeta, no. 136(57), March 19, 2010, http://www rg ru/2010/03/19/klimat.html 67

―Russian Public Opinion on Climate Change and Climate Policy in International Comparison,‖ Russian Analytical

Digest, no. 79, 2010, based on representative polls of the population organized by WorldPublicOpinion.Org,

conducted in September and October 2009, www.worldbank.org/wdr2010/climatepoll 68

A. Pugliese, and J. Ray, ―Top-Emitting Countries Differ on Climate Change Threat,‖ Gallup, 2009,

http://www.gallup.com/poll/124595/top-emitting-countries-differ-climate-change-threat.aspx 69

A. Korppoo, ―Russia and the post-2012 Climate Regime: Foreign rather than Environmental Policy,‖ FIIA

Briefing Paper, no. 23, November 24, 2008.

155

70

More details on A. Korppoo, J. Karas, and M. Grubb (eds.), Russia and the Kyoto Protocol. Opportunities and

Challenges (London: Chatam House, 2006). 71

S. Charap, ―Russia‘s Lackluster Record on Climate Change,‖ Russian Analytical Digest, no. 79, 2010, p. 14. 72

A. Korppoo, ―Russia‘s Climate Policy Fails to Raise Hopes,‖ Finnish Institute for International Affairs, June 19,

2009, http://www.fiia.fi/se/news/683/rysslands_klimatpolitik_ar_inte_agnat_att_inge_forhoppningar/ 73

ZumBrunnen, ―Climate Change in the Russian North. Threats Real and Potential,‖ pp. 77-78. 74

―Public Procurement Programme 2010,‖ Carbon Disclosure Project, http://media.blueprint.tv/cdp/public-

procurement-report-2010/ 75

E. Lioubimtseva, ―Russia‘s Role in the Post-2012 Climate Change Policy: Key Contradictions and Uncertainties,‖

Forum on Public Policy, Spring 2010, pp. 1-18,

http://www.forumonpublicpolicy.com/spring2010.vol2010/spring2010archive/Lioubimtseva.pdf. 76

More details in McKinsey and Co, Pathways to an Energy and Carbon Efficient Russia (Moscow, McKinsey

&Co. Inc., 2009). 77

Rossdata for 2009 and Audit Chamber report on RAO UES investment program 2006, quoted by S. Charap, and

G.I. Safonov, ―Climate Change and Role of Energy Efficiency,‖ p. 140.

Chapter 3

1 M. Bassin, C. Ely, and M.K. Stockdale (eds.), Space, Place, and Power in Modern Russia: Essays in the New

Spatial History (DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 2010). 2 J. O'Loughlin, and P. Talbot, ―Where in the World is Russia? Geopolitical Perceptions and Preferences of Ordinary

Russians,‖ Eurasian Geography and Economics, vol. 46, no. 1, 2005, pp. 23-50; J. O'Loughlin, G. Toal, and V.

Kolossov, ―The Geopolitical Orientations of Ordinary Russians: A Public Opinion Analysis,‖ Eurasian Geography

and Economics, vol. 48, no. 2, 2006, pp. 129-152. 3 M. Antonova, ―State Lays Claim to Geography Society,‖ The St. Petersburg Times, November 20, 2009,

http://www.sptimes.ru/story/30332 4 A. Kappeler, The Russian Empire: A Multi-Ethnic History (New York: Longman, 2001).

5 O. Frost, Bering: The Russian Discovery of America (New Haven & London: Yale University Press, 2003).

6 J. Nurminen, and M. Lainema, A History of Arctic Exploration: Discovery, Adventure and Endurance at the Top of

the World (London: Conway, 2010). 7 J. McCannon, Red Arctic: Polar Exploration and the Myth of the North in the Soviet Union, 1932-1939 (Oxford:

Oxford University Press, 1998), p. 6. 8 Ibid., p. 38.

9 More details in Ibid., pp. 81-144.

10 The Kremlin had already revived the unifying theme of the motherland in 1995-1996, when Boris Yeltsin set

about promoting Russian national identity and quickly lifted the ideological ban imposed on patriotic themes. See

M. Laruelle, In the Name of the Nation. Nationalism and Politics in Contemporary Russia (New York: Palgrave,

2009), pp. 120-134. 11

V. V. Putin, ―Poslanie Federal‘nomu Sobraniiu Rossiiskoi Federatsii,‖ Kremlin.ru, April 25, 2005,

http://www.kremlin.ru/appears/2005/04/25/1223_type63372type63374type82634_87049.shtml 12

Laruelle, In the Name of the Nation, pp. 154-155 and 188-191. 13

R. Sakwa, The Crisis of Russian Democracy. The Dual State, Factionalism and the Medvedev Succession

(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011). 14

A. Chilingarov, ―Arktika—nash rodnoi krai,‖ Regnum.ru, July 7, 2007, http://www.regnum.ru/news/867158.html 15

―SShA i Rossiia razdeliaiut Arktiku,‖ Pogranichnik.ru, January 14, 2009,

http://forum.pogranichnik.ru/index.php?showtopic=10737 16

N. Patrushev, ―Arkticheskie territorii imeiut strategicheskoe znachenie dlia Rossii,‖ Rossiiskaia gazeta, March 30,

2009. 17

M. Laruelle, ―Conspiracy and Alternate History in Russia: The Nationalist Equation,‖ forthcoming. 18

―Sovet bezopasnoti RF provel zasedanie po problem izmeneniia klimata,‖ Climate Change, March 17, 2010,

http://www.climatechange ru/node/423 19

A. Oreshenkov, ―Arctic Square of Opportunities,‖ Russia in Global Affairs, December 25, 2010,

eng.globalaffairs.ru/.../Arctic-Square-of-Opportunities-15085 20

G.K. Voitolovsky, ―Nereshennye problemy Arkticheskogo morepol‘zovaniia,‖ Vestnik MGTU, no. 1, 2010, pp.

90-104, http://vestnik.mstu.edu ru/v13_1_n38/articles/17_voitol.pdf

156

21

Antonova, ―State Lays Claim to Geography Society.‖ 22

See its information portal, http://www.rgo.ru/, and its institutional website, http://www rgo ru/rgo/ 23

The journal Russia in Global Affairs has published at least four articles on the Arctic, see its website

eng.globalaffairs.ru 24

A. Indzhiev, Bitva za Arktiku. Budet li sever russkim? (Moscow: Iauza, Eksmo, 2010). 25

M. Schepp, and G. Traufetter, ―Riches at the North Pole. Russia Unveils Aggressive Arctic Plans,‖ Der Spiegel,

January 29, 2009, http://www.spiegel.de/international/world/0,1518,604338,00 html 26

M. Laruelle, Russian Eurasianism. An Ideology of Empire (Washington D.C.: Woodrow Wilson Press/Johns

Hopkins University Press, 2008), pp. 120-125. 27

―ESM piketiroval MID za Arktiku,‖ Rossiia 3, September 27, 2010,

http://www.rossia3.ru/news/1612484841d0b8b954a7f4c9179bfda7 28

Ibid. 29

D. Steshin, ―Rossiia vernulas‘ v Arktiku?,‖ Komsomol‘skaia pravda, January 23, 2008,

http://kp.by/daily/24036/96268/ 30

A. Prokhanov, ―Severnyi marsh Rossii,‖ Zavtra, April 25, 2007, http://www.arctictoday ru/analytics/704.html 31

A. Prokhanov, ―Ledovityi okean—vnutrennee more Rossii,‖ Zavtra, August 8,

2007,http://www.zavtra ru/cgi/veil/data/zavtra/07/716/11 html 32

S. Pykhtyn, ―Kak prodavali Aliasku: temnaia storona russko-amerikanskikh otnoshenii s 1824 po 1867 god,‖

Moskva, no. 8, 2005, pp. 144-165. 33

A. Znamenski, ―History with an Attitude: Alaska in Modern Russian Patriotic Rhetoric,‖ Jahrbücher für

Geschichte Osteuropeas, vol. 57, no. 3, 2009, pp. 346-373. 34

Entretiens anonymes avec des experts russes, Moscow, September-October 2010. 35

On the Aryan myth in nineteenth century Russia, see M. Laruelle, Mythe aryen et rêve impérial dans la Russie

tsariste (Paris: CNRS-Editions, 2005). 36

V. Chivilikhin, ―Pamiat‘‘, Roman-gazeta, no. 17, 1982, republished Pamiat‘ (Moscow: Khudozhestvennaia

literatura, 1988), p. 11. 37

M. Laruelle, ―Alternative Identity, Alternative Religion? Neo-Paganism and the Aryan Myth in Contemporary

Russia,‖ Nations and Nationalism, vol. 14, no. 2, 2008, pp. 283-301. 38

V. Shnirelman, Intellektual‘nye labirinty: ocherki ideologii v sovremennoi Rossii (Moscow: Academia, 2004). 39

M. Laruelle, ―The Ideological Shift on the Russian Radical Right: From Demonizing the West to Fear of

Migrants,‖ Problems of Post-Communism, vol. 57, no. 6, 2010, pp. 19–31. 40

E. Pain, ―Xenophobia and Ethnopolitical Extremism in Post-Soviet Russia: Dynamics and Growth Factors‖,

Nationalities Papers, vol. 35, no. 5, 2007, pp. 895-911. 41

V.I. Mukomel‘, and E.A. Pain (eds.), Tolerantnost‘ protiv ksenofobii. Zarubezhnyi i rossiiskii opyt (Moscow:

Academia, 2005). 42

A. Leonova, ―Nepriiazn‘ k migrantam kak forma samozashchity,‖ Otechestvennye zapiski, vol. 19, no. 4, 2004,

http://www.strana-oz ru/?numid=19&article=921 43

V. Ermolaev, ―Storonnikov lozunga ‗Rossiia dlia russkikh‘ stalo bol‘she,‖ Tribuna, April 8, 2010,

http://www.tribuna.ru/news/2010/04/08/news9466/ (accessed October 27, 2010). 44

More details in Laruelle, In the Name of the Nation, 74-79; and H. Pilkington, E. Omel‘chenko, and A.

Garifzianova, Russia‘s Skinheads. Exploring and Rethinking Subcultural Lives (London: Routledge, 2010), pp. 99-

120. 45

M. Alekseev, ―Migration, Hostility, and Ethnopolitical Mobilization: Russia‘s Anti-Chinese Legacies in

Formation,‖ in B. Ruble, and D. Arel (eds.), Rebounding Identities (Washington, D.C.: Woodrow Wilson Center

Press, 2006), pp. 116-148. 46

On their actions, see Aggressive Racism in Russia, Efforts to Counteract It, and Abuse of Anti-Extremist

Legislation. Current Trends (Moscow, SOVA, November 2008), http://www.humanrightsfirst.org/pdf/081120-FD-

sova.pdf (accessed October 27, 2010). 47

E.G. Solovyev, ―Geopolitics in Russia, Science or Vocation?,‖ Communist and Post-Communist Studies, vol. 37,

no. 1, 2004, pp. 85-96. 48

See for example, A. Panarin, Rossiia v tsivilizatsionnom protsesse (Moscow: IFRAN, 1995), or Pravoslavnaia

tsivilizatsiia v global‘nom mire (Moscow: Algoritm, 2002). 49

A. Verkhovsky, Politicheskoe pravoslavie. Russkie pravoslavnye natsionalisty i fundamentalisty, 1995-2001

(Moscow: SOVA, 2004).

157

50

For a counter-reaction to this ethnic reading of the French riots, see the analysis by E. Demintseva, Kak byt‘

arabom vo Frantsii (Moscow: NLO, 2008). 51

V. Shnirelman, ‗Tsepnoi pes rasy‘: divannaia rasologiia kak zashchitnitsa ‗belogo cheloveka‘ (Moscow: SOVA,

2007), http://xeno.sova-center.ru/29481C8/9EB7A7E 52

See the website http://www.slavfond.ru/about htm (accessed October 27, 2010). 53

The Foreign Policy Concept of the Russian Federation, July 12, 2008,

http://archive.kremlin ru/eng/text/docs/2008/07/204750.shtml 54

L. March, ―Nationalism for Export? The Domestic and Foreign-Policy Implications of the new ‗Russian Idea‘,‖

Europe-Asia Studies, forthcoming 2011. 55

steelastra.ucoz.ru (accessed January 18, 2011). 56

Agenda of the meeting at http://www.arctic ru/forum 57

―Putin sozdast gosuchrezhdenie po arkticheskomu turizmu,‖ Rosbalt, December 14, 2010,

http://www.rosbalt.ru/main/2010/12/14/800534 html 58

E. Wilson Rowe, ―Russian Regional Multilateralism: The Case of the Arctic Council,‖ in E. Wilson Rowe, and S.

Torjesen (eds.), The Multilateral Dimension in Russian Foreign Policy (London: Routledge, 2008), pp. 142-152. 59

E. Riddell-Dixon, ―Canada and Arctic Politics: The Continental Shelf Extension,‖ Ocean Development &

International Law, vol. 39, no. 4, 2008, pp. 343-359, here p. 351. 60

M. Wyrzykowska, ―Use It or Lose It: Canadian Arctic Sovereignty Heats Up,‖ The Atlantic Council of Canada,

September 9, 2010, http://atlantic-council.ca/?p=1928; R. Macnab, ―Use it or Lose it in Arctic Canada: Action

Agenda or Election Hype?,‖ Vermont Law Review, vol. 34, 2009, pp. 1-14. 61

R. Boswell, ―Arctic sea route to be renamed Canadian Northwest Passage‖, Canwest News Service, December 3,

2009,

http://www.vancouversun.com/news/Arctic+route+renamed+Canadian+Northwest+Passage/2300092/story html 62

P. Whitney Lackenbauer, ―Mirror Images? Canada, Russia and the circumpolar world,‖ International Journal,

Autumn 2010, pp. 879-897. 63

The use of U.S. ice-breaking for Canadian polar expeditions, however, contributes to Russian views that Canada

is still too prone to American interests. More in E. Piskunova, ―Russia in the Arctic. What‘s lurking behind the

flag?,‖ International Journal, Autumn 2010, pp. 851-864. 64

Anonymous interviews with Russian experts, MGIMO, IMEMO, and SOVP, Moscow, September 2010. 65

http://www.arctic.noaa.gov/aro/russian-american/2009/ 66

Ancient historical rivalry between the Czarist empire and the Kingdom of Sweden; tensions with Helsinki relating

to the low level of autonomy in Finland during Soviet time and memories of the war of 1939-1940, and for Norway,

geopolitical tensions between NATO and the Warsaw Pact. 67

B. Solum Whist, ―Norway and Russia in the High North: Clash of perceptions,‖ Security Brief, no. 1, 2008,

http://www.atlanterhavskomiteen.no/files/atlanterhavskomiteen.no/Publikasjoner/KortInfo/Arkiv/2008/kortinfo_1_2

008.pdf 68

I. Krastev, ―Russia as ‗the Other Europe,‘‖ Russia in Global Affairs, July-August 2007, pp. 33-45, here p. 42.

Chapter 4

1 D.R. Rothwell, The Polar Regions and the Development of International Law (Cambridge: Cambridge University

Press, 1996). 2 Complete information on the website of the Commission on the Limits of the Continental Shelf at

http://www.un.org/Depts/los/clcs_new/clcs_home htm 3 A. Hakon Hoel, ―The High North Legal-Political Regime,‖ in S.G. Holtsmark, and B.A. Smith-Windsor (eds.),

Security Prospects in the High North: Geostrategic Thaw or Freeze? (Rome: NATO Defence College, 2009), pp.

87-93. 4 W.E. Butler, International Straits of the World: Northeast Arctic Passage (Alphen aan Rijn: Sijthoff & Noordhoff,

1978), p. 72. 5 L. Timtchenko, ―The Russian Arctic Sectoral Concept: Past and Present,‖ Arctic, vol. 50, no. 1, 1997, pp. 29-35.

6 Elferink, A G., ―The Law and Politics of the Maritime Boundary delimitation of the Russian Federation, Part 1,‖

The International Journal of Marine and Coastal Law, no. 4, 1996, pp. 525-561; Elferink, A G. ―The Law and

Politics of the Maritime Boundary delimitation of the Russian Federation, Part 2,‖ The International Journal of

Marine and Coastal Law, no. 1, 1997, pp. 5-35. 7 Ibid., p. 32.

158

8 P. Sasgen, Stalking the Red Bear: The True Story of a U.S. Cold War Submarine's Covert Operations Against the

Soviet Union (New York: St. Martin's Press, 2009). 9 B. Spielman, ―An Evaluation of Russia‘s Impending Claim for Continental Shelf Expansion: Why Rule 5 Will

Shelve Russia‘s Submission,‖ Emory International Law Review, vol. 23, 2009, p. 340. 10

Ibid., p. 317. 11

U.N. Convention on the Law of the Sea art. 76(1), Dec. 10, 1982, 1833 U.N.T.S. 397. 12

T. Górski, ―A Note on Submarine Ridges and Elevations with Special Reference to the Russian Federation and the

Arctic Ridges,‖ Ocean Development & International Law, vol. 40, no. 1, 2009, pp. 51-60. 13

Ibid., p. 51. 14

More detailed comments on the Russian claim in Spielman, ―An Evaluation of Russia‘s Impending Claim for

Continental Shelf Expansion: Why Rule 5 Will Shelve Russia‘s Submission,‖ pp. 309-350. 15

See the executive summary of the ―Continental Shelf Submission of Norway in respect of areas in the Arctic

Ocean, the Barents Sea and the Norwegian Sea‖ at

http://www.regjeringen.no/upload/kilde/ud/prm/2006/0374/ddd/pdfv/299461-sokkel.pdf, and ―Limits of Norway‘s

Arctic seabed agreed,‖ Barents Observer, April 16, 2009, http://www.barentsobserver.com/limits-of-norways-arctic-

seabed-agreed.4580729-16149.html 16

Riddell-Dixon, ―Canada and Arctic Politics: The Continental Shelf Extension.‖ 17

Ibid. 18

W. Jokat, G. Uenzelmann-Neben, Y. Kristoffersen and T. M. Rasmussen, ―Lomonosov Ridge—A double-sided

continental margin,‖ Geology, vol. 20, no. 10, 1992, pp. 887-890. 19

Spielman, ―An Evaluation of Russia‘s Impending Claim for Continental Shelf Expansion: Why Rule 5 Will

Shelve Russia‘s Submission,‖ p. 329. 20

B. Baker, ―Law, Science, and the Continental Shelf: the Russian Federation and the Promise of Arctic

Cooperation,‖ American University International Law Review, vol. 25, no. 2, 2010, p. 270. 21

―Agreement between the United States of America and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics on the maritime

boundary,‖ 1 June 1990,

http://www.un.org/Depts/los/LEGISLATIONANDTREATIES/PDFFILES/TREATIES/USA-RUS1990MB.PDF 22

A. Oreshenkov, ―Severnaia ledovitaia diplomatiia,‖ Rossiia v global‘noi politike, no. 4, 2009,

www.globalaffairs ru/number/n_13635 23

L. Shebarshin, ―Oni bez nas prozhivut, a my bez samix sebia—net,‖ Ekonomicheskie strategii, no. 6, 2000, pp.

36-49. 24

N.G. Palamar, ―Nekotorye aspekty pogranichnogo razgranicheniia mezhdu Rossiiskoi Federatsiei i SShA,‖

Znanie. Ponimanie Umenie, no. 6, 2009, http://www.zpu-journal ru/e-

zpu/2009/6/Palamar_Boundary_Differentiation/index.php?sphrase_id=4718 25

Ibid. 26

P. Prokhorov, ―‗Gaagskaia vaktsina‘ ot ‗sindroma Siuarda‘,‖ Sankt-Peterburgskie vedomosti, no. 137, July 28,

2006, http://www.spbvedomosti.ru/print htm?id=10237723@SV_Articles (accessed September 27, 2010). 27

―Interv‘iu direktora Departamenta Severnoi Ameriki MID Rossii I.S. Neverova agentsvu Interfaks 2 dekabria

2007 o situatsii vokrug razresheniia spora mezhdu Rossiei i SShA,‖

http://www.mid.ru/brp_4 nsf/sps/9554B2AAAA2E844BC32573A8002BF76D 28

V. Verzhbitsky, E. Frantzen, T. Savostina, A. Little, S.D. Sokolov, M.I. Tuchkova, ―Russian Chukchi Sea,‖

GeoExpro, September 10, 2008, http://www.geoexpro.com/TGS-Chukchi/ (accessed September 27, 2010). 29

A. Vylegzhanin, ―Agreement between the USSR and the USA about the line of the demarcation of the maritime

spaces of 1990: different assessments of interim application‖, Translation by Caitlyn Antrim. I thank Caitlyn Antrim

for sending me this document. 30

A. Oreshenkov, ―Arctic Square of Opportunities,‖ Russia in Global Affairs, December 2010,

http://eng.globalaffairs.ru/number/Arctic-Square-of-Opportunities-15085 31

Spielman, ―An Evaluation of Russia‘s Impending Claim for Continental Shelf Expansion: Why Rule 5 Will

Shelve Russia‘s Submission,‖ p. 339. 32

A. Moe, ―The Russian Barents Sea: Openings for Norway?,‖ in R. Gottemoeller, and R. Tamnes (eds.), High

North: High Stakes (Bergen: Fagbokforlaget, 2008), pp. 75-85. 33

I.V. Stepanov, P. Ørebech, and R.D. Brubaker, Legal Implications for the Russian Northern Sea Route and

Westward in the Barents Sea (Oslo: The Fridtjof Nansen Institute, 2005), p. 9. 34

P. Prokhorov, ―How do we Divide the Barents Sea?,‖ paper presented at the Northern Research Forum, October 4,

2006, pp. 114-116.

159

35

―The Norwegian Exclusive Economic Zone,‖ Fisheries.no,

http://www.fisheries no/management_control/economic_zones/economic_zone/ 36

O. Jensen and S. Vigeland Rottem, ―The Politics of Security and International Law in Norway‘s Arctic waters,‖

Polar Record, vol. 46 (236), 2010, pp. 75–83. 37

―Agreement between Norway and Russia on Maritime Delimitation,‖ Norway Mission to the EU, http://www.eu-

norway.org/news1/Agreement-between-Norway-and-Russia-on-maritime-delimitation/ 38

Treaty between the Kingdom of Norway and the Russian Federation concerning Maritime Delimitation and

Cooperation in the Barents Sea and the Arctic Ocean, September 15, 2010, in Russian at

http://www.kremlin.ru/ref_notes/707, in English at

http://www.regjeringen.no/upload/SMK/Vedlegg/2010/avtale_engelsk.pdf 39

T. Henriksen, and G. Ulfstein, ―Maritime Delimitation in the Arctic: The Barents Sea Treaty,‖ Ocean

Development & International Law, vol. 42, no. 1-2, 2011, pp. 1-21. 40

Anonymous interviews with lawyers working on the Arctic at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Russia, Moscow,

September 2010. 41

A. Oreshenkov, ―Arctic Diplomacy,‖ Russia in Global Affairs, no. 8, December 2009,

http://eng.globalaffairs.ru/number/n_14250 42

T. Pedersen, ―The Svalbard Continental Shelf Controversy: Legal Disputes and Political Rivalries,‖ Ocean

Development & International Law, vol. 37, no. 3-4, 2006, pp. 339-358. 43

I. Caracciolo, ―Unresolved Controversy: the Legal Situation of the Svalbard Islands Maritime Areas; an

Interpretation of the Paris Treaty in light of UNCLOS 1982,‖ paper presented at the International conference on

Disputed Territory & Maritime Space, Durkham University, April 2, 2010,

http://www.dur.ac.uk/resources/ibru/conferences/sos/ida_caracciolo_paper.pdf 44

D.H. Anderson, ―The Status under International Law of the Maritime Areas Around Svalbard,‖ Ocean

Development & International Law, vol. 40, no. 4, 2009, pp. 373-384. 45

Ibid. 46

A.N. Vylegzhanin, and V.L. Zilanov, Spitsbergen. Legal Regime of Adjacent Marine Areas (Portland: Eleven

International Publishing, 2007), p. 57. 47

Oslo ended up excluding Coles Bay from the Protection Act. K. Åtland, and T. Pedersen, ―The Svalbard

Archipelago in Russian Security Policy: Overcoming the Legacy of Fear - or Reproducing it?,‖ European Security,

vol. 17, no. 2, 2008, pp. 227-251. 48

Oreshenkov, ―Arctic Square of Opportunities.‖ 49

Ilulissat Declaration, May 28, 2008, http://www.sikunews.com/News/International/The-Ilulissat-Declaration-4833 50

N. Matz-Lück, ―Planting the Flag in Arctic Waters: Russia‘s Claim to the North Pole,‖ Göttingen Journal of

International Law, vol. 1, no. 2, 2009, pp. 235-255.

Chapter 5

1 ―Russian Air force exercise,‖ Barents Observer, March 19, 2009, http://www.barentsobserver.com/russian-air-

force-exercise.4568703-16149.html 2 ―Large Russian military exercise in Baltic Sea area involves tens of thousands of troops,‖ Helsinki Sanomat,

August 20, 2009,

http://www.hs fi/english/article/Large+Russian+military+exercise+in+Baltic+Sea+area+involves+tens+of+thousand

s+of+troops/1135248663305 3 The U.S. Navy Arctic Road Map, November 2009,

http://www.navy.mil/navydata/documents/USN_artic_roadmap.pdf 4 K. Zysk, ―Russian Military Power and the Arctic,‖ Russian Foreign Policy, EU–Russia Centre‘s Review, no. 8,

2008, pp. 80-86. 5 ―Northern Fleet,‖ Global Security, no date, http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/world/russia/mf-north htm

6 D. Gorenburg, ―Russian Naval Deployments A Return to Global Power Projection or a Temporary Blip?,‖

PONARS Eurasia Policy Memo, no. 57, May 2009. 7 Åtland, and Pedersen, ―The Svalbard Archipelago in Russian Security Policy: Overcoming the Legacy of Fear - or

Reproducing it?,‖ pp. 227-251. 8 ―Rossiia usilivaet voenno-morskoe prisutstvie v Arktike,‖ Natsional‘naia bezopasnost‘, July 18, 2008,

http://nationalsafety ru/n18964 9 Russia unilaterally suspended its long-range strategic aviation patrols in 1992.

160

10

A. Stukalin, ―Bears and Blackjacks Are Back. What Next?,‖ Moscow Defense Brief, no. 4 (22), 2010,

http://mdb.cast ru/mdb/4-2010/item4/article1/ 11

P. Baev, ―Russia‘s Arctic Policy. Geopolitics, Mercantilism and Identity-Building,‖ FIIA Briefing Paper, no. 73,

December 2010, p. 23. 12

I. Facon, and M. Asencio, Le Renouveau de la puissance aérienne russe (Paris: Fondation for Strategic Research,

2010). 13

―Samolety-raketonostsy VVP RF vedut patrulirovanie v raionakh Arktiki,‖ RIA Novosti, July 9, 2008,

http://www.militaryparitet.com/teletype/data/ic_teletype/2746/ 14

―Less Russian military aircrafts in the vicinity of Norwegian airspace,‖ Barents Observer, January 7, 2011,

www.barentsobserver.com/index.php?id=4869459 15

A. Stukalin, ―Bears and Blackjacks Are Back. What Next?‖ 16

―General Shamanov: Rossiia gotovitsia k voine za Arktiku,‖ Polit.ru, June 24, 2008,

http://www.polit.ru/news/2008/06/24/getready html 17

V. Shurygin, ―Voina y poroga,‖ Shurigin Live Journal, March 31, 2009,

http://shurigin.livejournal.com/174272 html?page=5 18

―Rossiia sozdaet otdel‘nuiu gruppirovku voisk v Arktike‖, Grani.ru, March 27, 2009,

http://grani.ru/Politics/Russia/m.149100 html. 19

R. McDermott, ―Russia Planning Arctic Military Grouping,‖ Eurasia Daily Monitor, vol. 6, no. 72, April 15,

2009, http://www.jamestown.org/single/?no_cache=1&tx_ttnews%5Btt_news%5D=34857 20

―Russia to establish Polar Spetsnaz on border to Norway,‖ Barents Observer, March 16, 2011,

http://www.barentsobserver.com/russia-to-establish-polar-spetsnaz-on-border-to-norway.4898509-58932 html 21

More details in Mezhdunarodnaia situatsiia vokrug Arktiki I sostoianie rossiiskii priarkticheskoi infrastruktury

(Moscow: Tsentr politicheskoi informatsii, 2010). 22

For more details see http://flot.com/nowadays/structure/north/ 23

D. Rudolph, ―The Arctic Military Environmental Cooperation (AMEC) Program‘s role in the management of

spent fuel from decommissioned nuclear submarines,‖ in Scientific and Technical Issues in the Management of

Spent Fuel of Decommissioned Nuclear Submarines (Dordrecht: NATO Science Series II, Mathematics, Physics and

Chemistry, 2006). 24

V. Patrushev, ―Flotu neobkhodimy remont i modernizatsiia,‖ Nezavisimaia gazeta, October 06, 2006,

http://nvo ng.ru/armament/2006-10-06/6_flot.html 25

―Severnyi flot,‖ Vlast‘, no 7 (760), February 25, 2008, http://www.kommersant.ru/doc.aspx?DocsID=856043 26

―Russian plans to upgrade three nuclear-powered cruisers by 2020,‖ RIA Novosti, July 25, 2010,

http://en.rian.ru/mlitary_news/20100725/159939020 html 27

J. W. Kipp, ―The Russian Navy Recalibrates its Oceanic Ambitions,‖ Free Republic, October 30, 2009,

http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/news/2375147/posts 28

―Modernized destroyer back at Northern Fleet base,‖ Barents Observer, February 18, 2011,

http://www.barentsobserver.com/modernized-destroyer-back-at-northern-fleet-base.4886962-116321 html 29

―VMF Rossii popolnitsia novymi korabliami,‖ Severnyi Flot, January 11, 2010,

http://www.severnyflot ru/news.php?extend.1961 30

P. Podvig (ed.), Russian Strategic Nuclear Forces (Boston: MIT Press, 2004). 31

―State-of-the-art nuclear submarines to the Russian Navy,‖ Barents Observer, June 19, 2009,

www.barentsobserver.com/state-of-the-art-nuclear-submarines-to-the-russian-navy.4608935-58932.html 32

―APL Kareliia 22 ianvaria budet peredana VMF Rossii,‖ Severnyi Flot, January 11, 2010,

http://www.severnyflot ru/news.php?extend.1964 33

―Sineva extended range launch,‖ Russianforces.org, October 11, 2008,

http://russianforces.org/blog/2008/10/sineva_extended_range_launch.shtml 34

P. Felgenhauer, ―The Bulava SLBM and the US-Russian Arms Talks,‖ Eurasia Daily Monitor, vol. 6, no. 232,

December 17, 2009. 35

Ibid. 36

N. Petrov, ―The Russian Navy Gets Ambitious,‖ RIA Novosti, August 01, 2007,

http://www.spacedaily.com/reports/The_Russian_Navy_Gets_Ambitious_999.html 37

List of failures and successes available at http://russianforces.org/navy/slbms/bulava.shtml 38

―Nuclear warheads ready for Bulava missile as test program picks up steam,‖ RIA Novosti, December 7, 2010,

http://en.rian.ru/mlitary_news/20101207/161664867 html

161

39

See Russian Defense Industry and Arms Trade: Facts and Figures (Moscow: Centre for Analysis of Strategies

and Technologies, 2010), http://www.cast ru/files/all-stats_eng.pdf 40

A. Golts, ―The Disarmaments Program,‖ Ezhednevnyi Zhurnal, May 26, 2010. 41

Z. Barany, Democratic Breakdown and the Decline of the Russian Military (Princeton: Princeton University

Press, 2007). 42

F. Daucé, and E. Sieca-Kozlowski, Dedovshchina in the Post-Soviet Military. Hazing of Russian Army Conscripts

in a Comparative Perspective (Stuttgart: Ibidem Verlag, 2006). 43

C. Vendil Pallin, and D. Westerlund, ―Russia‘s War in Georgia: Lessons and Consequences,‖ Small Wars and

Insurgencies, vol. 20, no. 2, 2009, pp. 400–424. 44

M. Sieff, ―Makarov pledges to complete Russian army reform by 2012,‖ UPI.com, February 9, 2009,

http://www.upi.com/Business_News/Security-Industry/2009/02/09/Makarov-pledges-to-complete-Russian-army-

reform-by-2012/UPI-95081234222215/ 45

P. Baev, ―Military Reforms against Heavy Odds,‖ in Aslund, Guriev, and Kuchins (eds.), Russia after the Global

Economic Crisis, pp. 169-185 46

More in S. Blank (ed.), Russia Military Politics and Russia‘s 2010 Defense Doctrine (Carlisle: Strategic Studies

Institute, 2010). 47

S.J. Main, The Mouse that Roared, or the Bear that Growled? Russia‘s Latest Military Doctrine (Wiltshire:

Defence Academy of the United Kingdom, 2010). 48

M. de Has, ―Russia's New Military Doctrine: A Compromise Document,‖ Russian Analytical Digest, no. 78, May

4, 2010. 49

M. Galeotti (ed.), The Politics of Security in Modern Russia (Farnham: Ashgate, 2010); R. Legvold (ed.), Russian

Foreign Policy in the 21st century and the Shadow of the Past (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007).

50 Parker, Russia‘s Revival: Ambitions, Limitations, and Opportunities for the United States, pp. 20-24. See also B.

Lo, Axis of Convenience. Moscow, Beijing, and the New Geopolitics (Washington, London: Brookings Institution

Press and Chatham House, 2008). 51

See for instance C. King, and R. Menon, ―Prisoners of the Caucasus. Russia's Invisible Civil War,‖ Foreign

Affairs, July/August 2010, pp. 20-34; M. Laruelle, Russian Policy on Central Asia and the Role of Russian

Nationalism (Washington D.C.: The Central Asia-Caucasus Institute, 2008). 52

Parker, Russia‘s Revival: Ambitions, Limitations, and Opportunities for the United States, pp. 14-17. 53

Maritime Doctrine of Russian Federation 2020, July 27, 2001, English version available at

http://www.oceanlaw.org/downloads/arctic/Russian_Maritime_Policy_2020.pdf 54

G.P. Lannon, ―Russia's New Look Army Reforms and Russian Foreign Policy,‖ The Journal of Slavic Military

Studies, vol. 24, no. 1, 2011, pp. 26-54. 55

Baev, ―Military Reforms against Heavy Odds.‖ 56

―Russian Navy‘s Regeneration Plans,‖ IISS Strategic Comments, vol. 17, February 2011,

http://www.iiss.org/publications/strategic-comments/past-issues/volume-17-2011/february/russian-navys-

regeneration-plans 57

Ibid. 58

D. Gorenburg, ―Russia‘s State Armaments Program 2020: Is the Third Time the Charm for

Military Modernization?,‖ Russia Military Reform, October 12, 2010,

http://russiamil.wordpress.com/2010/10/12/russia%E2%80%99s-state-armaments-program-2020-is-the-third-time-

the-charm-for-military-modernization/ 59

M. Barabanov, Sovremennoe sostoianie i perspektivy razvitiia rossiskogo flota (Moscow: Center for Defense

Information 2006). 60

M. Lapenkova, ―Russia Wants All Technology On French-Built Mistrals,‖ Defense News, June 11, 2010,

http://www.defensenews.com/story.php?i=4667273 61

―Three companies in Barents Russia up for privatization,‖ Barents Observer, November 18, 2010,

http://www.barentsobserver.com/three-companies-in-barents-russia-up-for-privatization.4848844-16179.html 62

R. Kefferpütz, ―On Thin Ice? (Mis)interpreting Russian Policy in the High North,‖ CEPS Policy Brief, no. 205,

February 2010; K. Roberts, ―Jets, flags and a new Cold War? Demystifying Russia‘s Arctic Intentions,‖

International Journal, Autumn 2010, pp. 957-976. 63

K. Zysk, ―Russia‘s Arctic Strategy: Ambitions and Constraints,‖ Joint Force Quarterly, no. 57, 2010, pp. 103-

110. 64

B. Lo, ―Medvedev and the new European security architecture,‖ CER Policy Brief, July 2009,

http://www.cer.org.uk/pdf/pbrief_medvedev_july09.pdf

162

65

R. Grajauskas, ―What is new in Russia‘s 2009 national security strategy?,‖ Eastern Pulse, vol. 6, no. 21, 2009,

http://www.eesc.lt/public_files/file_1251361044.pdf 66

―Osnovy gosudarstvennoi politiki Rossiiskoi Federatsii v Arktike na period do 2020 g. i dal‘neishuiu

perspektivu,‖ Sovet Bezopasnosti, September 19, 2008, http://www.scrf.gov ru/documents/98.html. See K. Zysk‘s

comments, ―Russian National Security Strategy to 2020,‖ Geopolitics in the High North, June 15 2009,

http://www.geopoliticsnorth.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=84&limitstart=2 67

―Russian enhances control in the Arctic,‖ Barents Observer, March 2, 2011,

http://www.barentsobserver.com/russian-enhances-control-in-the-arctic.4891451-58932.html 68

Facon, and Asencio, Le renouveau de la puissance aérienne russe, p. 115. 69

K. Zysk, ―Russia and the High North. Security and Defence Perspectives,‖ in Holtsmark and Smith-Windsor

(eds.), Security Prospects in the High North: Geostrategic Thaw or Freeze?, pp. 102-129; K. Zysk, ―Geopolitics in

the Arctic: The Russian Security Perspective,‖ Climate of Opinion, no. 12, 2009, pp. 7-10. 70

―Russian navy's regeneration plans.‖ 71

Petrov, ―The Russian Navy Gets Ambitious.‖ 72

―Gazprom and RF Navy Ink Cooperation Agreement,‖ Gazprom Press Release, November 24, 2005,

http://old.gazprom ru/eng/news/2005/11/18373.shtml 73

More details in K. Atland, ―Russia‘s Northern Fleet and the Oil Industry—Rivals or Partners? A Study of Civil-

Military Relations in the Post-Cold War Arctic‖, Armed Forces & Society, vol. 35, no. 2, 2009, pp. 362-384. 74

Ibid. 75

Speech by Norway‘s Foreign Minister Jonas Gahr Støre, ―Current Strategic Challenges in the High North,‖

January 29, 2009, http://www.norway-nato.org/news/0204_High_North/ 76

D. Trenin, ―Russia redefines itself and its relations with the West,‖ Washington Quarterly, vol. 30, no. 2, 2007,

p. 104.

Chapter 6

1 Speech of President Medvedev at a meeting of the Russian Security Council on Russia‘s National Interests in the

Arctic, Moscow, 17 September 2008,

http://eng.kremlin ru/text/speeches/2008/09/17/1945_type82912type82913_206564.shtml 2 Osnovy gosudarstvennoi politiki Rossiiskoi Federatsii v Arktike na period do 2020 g. i dal‘neishuiu perspektivu.

3 Morozov, ―The Arctic: The Next ‗Hot Spot‘ of International Relations or a Region of Cooperation?.‖

4 R. Halpern, ―‘Above-Ground‘ Issues Affecting Energy Development in the Arctic,‖ ITA Occasional Paper, August

2007, p. 5. 5 K.J. Bird, and al., Circum-Arctic Resource Appraisal: Estimates of Undiscovered Oil and Gas North of the Arctic

Circle, U.S. Geological Survey, 2008, p. 1. 6 D. Gautier, and al., ―Assessment of undiscovered oil and gas in the Arctic,‖ Science, vol. 324, no. 5931, 20009, pp.

1175-1179, here p. 1178. 7 S.M. Yenikeyeff, and T. Fenton Krysiek, ―The Battle for the Next Energy Frontier: The Russian Polar Expedition

and the Future of Arctic Hydrocarbons,‖ Oxford Energy Comment, August 2007, p. 2. 8 Speech by Minister of Industry and Energy Viktor Khristenko in the State Duma, February 14, 2007.

9 http://www.eia.gov/countries/cab.cfm?fips=RS

10 BP Statistical Review of World Energy, June 2010, p. 6.

11 Proekt ―General‘naia schema razvitiia neftianoi otrasli Rossiiskoi Federatsii na period de 2020 g.‖, October 28,

2010, http://premier.gov.ru/events/news/12784/ 12

Information given by Adnan Vatansever, Russia's Energy Strategy Abroad, IERES Lecture, March 24, 2011. 13

http://www.eia.gov/countries/cab.cfm?fips=RS 14

BP Statistical Review of World Energy, June 2010, p. 22. The figures vary depending on the source; those of the

IEA are not the same as BP‘s. 15

A. Aslund, ―Gazprom: Challenged Giant in Need of Reform,‖ in Aslund, Guriev, and Kuchins, Russia after the

Global Economic Crisis p. 153. 16

―Russia to invest over $400bln in gas sector by 2030,‖ RIA Novosti, Ocotber 11, 2010,

http://en.rian.ru/business/20101011/160915781.html 17

More on Gazprom‘s strategies in J.P. Stern, The Future of Russian Gas and Gazprom (Oxford: Oxford University

Press, 2005). 18

More in Bambulyak, and Frantzen, Oil Transport from the Russian part of the Barents Region.

163

19

Yamal Megaproject, http://www.gazprom.com/production/projects/mega-yamal/ 20

http://www.europolgaz.com.pl/english/gazociag_zakres htm 21

I. Overland, ―Russia‘s Arctic Energy Policy‖, International Journal, Autumn 2010, pp. 865-878, here pp. 873-

876. 22

Oreshenkov, ―Arctic Square of Opportunities.‖ 23

―Oil resources on Russia‘s Euro-Arctic shelf,‖ Bellona, no date,

http://www.bellona.org/reports/report/1197333526.49 24

See details on Shtokman website, http://www.shtokman.ru/project/ 25

Facts 2008 - The Norwegian petroleum sector, Norwegian Petroleum Directorate 2008,

http://www.npd no/en/Publications/Facts/Facts-2008/ 26

―Rossiia zastolbit Arktiku,‖ Vzgliad, September 17, 2008. 27

―Oil and gas raw material base on the Russia‘s Arctic shelf,‖ Bellona, no date,

http://www.bellona.org/reports/report/1197291722.54 28

T. Carlisle, ―Russia's Rosneft to be BP's largest shareholder,‖ The National, January 16, 2011,

http://www.thenational.ae/business/energy/russias-rosneft-to-be-bps-largest-shareholder 29

See 2000 U.S. World Geological Survey, http://energy.cr.usgs.gov/WEcont/regions/reg1/r1russ.pdf 30

N. Dobronravin, ―Maritime Issues in Russian Energy Politics, Centrum Balticum, 2010,

http://www.centrumbalticum.org/files/408/Dobronravin_www.pdf 31

Baev, and Trenin D., The Arctic. A View from Russia, 2010, chapter ―The Virtual Battle for Nonexistent

Resources,‖ pp. 21-24. 32

K. Offerdal, ―High North Energy. Myths and Realities,‖ in Holtsmark, and Smith-Windsor, Security Prospects in

the High North: Geostrategic Thaw or Freeze?, pp. 151-178. 33

―Development of offshore oil and gas reserves on the Arctic shelf,‖ Bellona, no date,

http://www.bellona.org/reports/report/1197342150.13 34

P. Baev, ―Russia‘s Race for the Arctic and the New Geopolitics of the North Pole,‖ Jamestown Occasional Paper,

October 2007, p. 6. 35

See ―Kompleksnyi plan deistvii po realizatsii Strategii izucheniia i osvoeniia neftegazovogo potentsiala

kontinental‘nogo shelfa Rossiiskoi Federatsii na period de 2020,‖

http://www.mnr.gov ru/part/?act=more&id=646&pid=45 36

http://www.offshore-technology.com/projects/Prirazlomnoye/ 37

Kefferpütz, ―On Thin Ice? (Mis)interpreting Russian Policy in the High North,‖ p. 4. 38

Proven concepts. Deepwater and Ultra-deepwater areas represent the next frontiers for the oil and gas industry,

http://www.akersolutions.com/Documents/Media/Features/proven-concepts.pdf 39

N.J. Watson, ―The Money Gap,‖ Petroleum Economist, January 1, 2006, www.petroleum-

economist.com/Article/2733074/.../The-money-gap.html 40

N. Skorlygina, ―Sergei Bogdanchikov nyrvul na zolotoe dno,‖ Kommersant, April 21, 2008,

http://www.kommersant.ru/Doc/885039 41

World Energy Outlook 2008, International Energy Agency, pp. 219,

http://www.iea.org/textbase/nppdf/free/2008/weo2008.pdf 42

―Strategy for developing the oil and gas potential of Russia‘s Continental shelf,‖ Bellona,

http://www.bellona.org/reports/report/1197301271.52 43

http://www.eia.gov/countries/cab.cfm?fips=RS 44

W. Konończuk, ―The East Siberia/Pacific Ocean (ESPO) oil pipeline: a strategic project – an organisational

failure?,‖ Center for Eastern Studies Commentaries, no. 12, 2008. 45

http://www.eia.gov/countries/cab.cfm?fips=RS 46

―The shale revolution,‖ Nature, no. 460, July 30, 2009, pp. 551-552. 47

A. Kotlowski, ―Russian Energy Strategy and Transit Routes in Eastern Europe,‖ Oil, Gas and Energy Law

Intelligence, vol. 7, no. 2, 2009, pp. 1-31. 48

S. Peyrouse, Turkmenistan. Sources of Power, Power of Resources (New York: M.E. Sharpe, 2011). 49

A. Barnes, ―Russian-Chinese Oil Relations: Dominance or Negotiation?,‖ PONARS Eurasia Policy Memo, no.

124, 2010. 50

L. Solanko, and S. Pekka, ―Too Much or Too Little Russian Gas to Europe?,‖ Eurasian Geography and

Economics, vol. 50, no. 1, 2009, pp. 58-74. 51

Yu.P. Trutnev, ―O povyshenii effektivnosti osvoeniia uglevodorodnykh resursov kontinental‘nogo shelfa

Rossiiskoi Federatsii,‖ http://www.geoinform ru/?an=trutnev_ru

164

52

A. Moe, and L. Rowe, ―Petroleum Activity in the Russian Barents Sea. Constraints and Options for Norwegian

Offshore and Shipping Companies,‖ Fridtjof Nansen Institute Report, no. 7, 2008, pp. 7-8. 53

I thank Clifford Gaddy for sharing with me this information. 54

Moe, and Rowe, ―Petroleum Activity in the Russian Barents Sea. Constraints and Options for Norwegian

Offshore and Shipping Companies,‖ p. 5. 55

C. Locatelli, and S. Rossiaud, ―Russia‘s Gas and Oil Policy: the Emerging Organizational and Institutional

Framework for Regulating Access to Hydrocarbon Resources,‖ International Association for Energy Economics, no.

1, 2011, pp. 23-26, here p. 23. 56

A. Myers Jaffe, The Changing Role of National Oil Companies in International Energy Markets, James A. Baker

III Institute for Public Policy of Rice University, April 2007; P. Johnston, The Energy Security Impact of Oil

Nationalization (Ottawa: Canadian Centre for Operational Research and Analysis, October 2009). 57

J.R. Heath, ―Strategic Protectionism? National Security and Foreign Investment in the Russian Federation,‖

George Washington International Law Review, vol. 41, 2009, pp. 101-138. 58

A. Moe, and E. Wilson Rowe, ―Northern Offshore Oil and Gas Resources: Russian Policy Challenges and

Approaches,‖ Fridtjof Nansen Institute Report, 2008, p. 2. 59

.R. Heath, ―Strategic Protectionism? National Security and Foreign Investment in the Russian Federation.‖ 60

P. Hanson, ―Russian energy policy and the global crisis,‖ Energy Economist, no. 336, 2009, pp. 5-7. 61

ExxonMobil. Arctic Leadership, 2008. 62

BP in the Arctic and beyond, no date,

http://www.bp.com/liveassets/bp_internet/russia/bp_russia_english/STAGING/local_assets/downloads_pdfs/g/BP_i

n_Arctic_eng.pdf 63

A. Shiryaevskaya, and S. Bierman, ―Total to Buy US$4 Billion Novatek Stake, Enter Yamal Project,‖ Business

Week, March 3, 2011, http://www.businessweek.com/news/2011-03-03/total-to-buy-4-billion-novatek-stake-enter-

yamal-project html 64

Moe, and Rowe, ―Petroleum Activity in the Russian Barents Sea. Constraints and Options for Norwegian

Offshore and Shipping Companies,‖ p. 5. 65

―Shtokman partners say gas to flow in 2016,‖ Reuters, April 13, 2011,

http://in reuters.com/article/2011/04/13/russia-gas-shtokman-idINLDE73C13W20110413 66

J.M. Godzimirski, ―Grand enjeux dans le Grand Nord. Les relations Russie-Norvège et leurs implications pour

l‘Union européenne,‖ Russie.NEI.Visions, no. 25, December 2007. 67

―BP-Rosneft Alliance,‖ Taiga Analyst, January 2011. 68

Ibid. 69

ExxonMobil Profile: Sakhalin 1, http://www.exxonmobil.com/Corporate/files/news_pub_poc_sakhalin.pdf; and

Sakhalin 2, http://www.sakhalinenergy ru/en/ataglance.asp?p=aag_main&s=1 70

―Russia's Lukoil may join Bashneft to develop giant Trebs, Titov oilfields,‖ RIA Novosti, March 15, 2011,

http://en.rian.ru/business/20110315/163015542.html 71

―Gazprom comes to North Sea,‖ Barents Observer, March 11, 2011, http://www.barentsobserver.com/gazprom-

comes-to-north-sea.4896753-16178.html 72

Moe, and Wilson Rowe, ―Northern Offshore Oil and Gas Resources: Policy Challenges and Approaches,‖ p. 119. 73

More details in AMAP Oil and Gas Arctic 2007 (fifth AMAP State of the Arctic Environment Report),

http://www.amap no/workdocs/index.cfm?dirsub=%2FOGA%20Overview%20Report&sort=default 74

K.N. Casper, ―Oil and Gas Development in the Arctic: Softening of Ice Demands, Hardening of International

Law,‖ Natural Resources Journal, vol. 49, 2010, pp. 825-881. 75

―Calls for immediate Arctic oil drilling moratorium grow,‖ WWF, July 14, 2010,

http://www.wwf.org.uk/wwf_articles.cfm?unewsid=4071 76

M. Shestopalov, ―Vektor ustremlenii – Arktika,‖ Vozdushno-kosmicheskaia oborona, no. 6, 2008, pp. 16-24, here

p. 18. 77

J.S.P. Loe, Driving Forces in Russian Arctic Policy (Pöyry Management Consulting, January 2011), p. 16. 78

G.P. Glasby, and Yu.L. Voytekhovsky, ―Arctic Russia: Minerals and Mineral Resources,‖ Geoscientist, vol. 20,

no. 8, 2010, pp. 16-21. 79

M. Smelror, ―Mining in the Arctic,‖ Arctic Frontiers, January 25, 2011, p. 5. 80

See detailed information on its website, http://www.nornik ru/en/investor/fact/ 81

―Murmansk Region,‖ Kommersant, no date, http://www.kommersant.com/t-54/r_5/n_398/Murmansk_Region/ 82

M. Mongomery, ―Russia May Challenge China‘s Rare Earth Dominance,‖ Rare Earth Investing News, March 02,

2011.

165

83

I. Rubanov, ―REM stakes: A rare chance for Russia,‖ Expert Magazine, February 7, 2011,

http://indrus.in/articles/2011/02/07/rem_stakes_a_rare_chance_for_russia_12134.html 84

F. Asche, and M.D. Smith, ―Trade and Fisheries: Key Issues for the World Trade,‖ World Trade Organization

Working Paper, 2010, p. 7. 85

OECD, Strengthening Regional Fisheries Management Organizations (Paris: OECD Publishing, 2009), p. 17. 86

S. Clarke, ―Illegal Fishing in the Exclusive Economic Zone of Japan,‖ MRAG Working Paper, 2007 ; Zou

Keyuan, ―Implementing the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea in East Asia: Issues and Trends,‖

Singapore Year Book of International Law (Singapore: National University of Singapore, 2005), pp. 37-53. 87

O. Schram Stokke (ed.), Governing High Seas Fisheries. The Interplay of Global and Regional Regimes (Oxford:

Oxford University Press, 2001). 88

B. Rudloff, ―The EU as Fishing Actor in the Arctic. Stocktaking of Institutional Involvement and Exiting

Conflicts,‖ SWP Working Papers, July 2010, p. 11. 89

―Russian fisheries back on old heights,‖ Barents Observer, March 9, 2011,

http://www.barentsobserver.com/russian-fisheries-back-on-old-heights.4895784-16179.html 90

―Rosrybolovstvo ozhidaet rosta vylova ryby v RF k 2014 na 17%, do 4,7 million ton,‖ Fish.gov.ru, March 17,

2011,

http://www.fish.gov.ru/DocLib3/%D0%BD%D0%BE%D0%B2%D0%BE%D1%81%D1%82%D1%8C004668.asp

x 91

FAO, National Fishery Sector Overview. The Russian Federation (Rome: FAO, 2007), p. 2. 92

A.-K. Jørgensen, ―Recent Development in the Russian Fisheries Sector,‖ in Wilson Rowe, Russia and the North,

p. 89. 93

FAO, National Fishery Sector Overview. The Russian Federation, p. 3. 94

O. Schram Stokke, L.G. Anderson, and N. Mirovitskaya, ―The Barents Sea Fisheries,‖ in O.R. Young (ed.), The

Effectiveness of International Environmental Regimes: Causal Connections and Behavioral Mechanisms

(Cambridge: MIT Press, 1999), pp. 91-154. 95

―Barents region set the bar for success in fishing,‖ Barents Observer, May 19, 2010,

http://barentsobserver.custompublish.com/barents-region-sets-the-bar-for-success-in-fishing.4785234-16149 html 96

WWF, Analysis of Illegal Fishery for Cod in the Barents Sea (Moscow: WWF-Russia, 2005). 97

K. Åtland, and K. Ven Bruusgaard, ―When Security Speech Acts Misfire: Russia and the Elektron Incident,‖

Security dialogue, vol. 40, no. 3, 2009, pp. 333–353. 98

N. Zhuravleva, ―Postepenno nas vydaviat ottuda,‖ Vzgliad, October 27, 2010,

http://vz.ru/economy/2010/10/27/442890 html 99

―Delimitation agreement no threat for Russian fishermen,‖ Barents Observer, November 29, 2010,

http://www.barentsobserver.com/delimitation-agreement-no-threat-to-russian-fishermen.4855148-16179 html 100

Fishery Management Plan for Fish Resources of the Arctic, Management Area North Pacific Fishery

Management Council Anchorage, Alaska 99501, August 2009. 101

More details at The International Bering Sea Forum, http://www.beringseaforum.org/issues html 102

Howard, The Arctic Gold Rush, p. 97. 103

A. Vaisman, Trawling in the Mist: Industrial Fisheries in the Russian Part of the Bering Sea (Moscow: WWF,

2001). 104

Anonymous discussions at Far East Branch of Russian Academy of Sciences, Department of Geography and

Natural Resources, Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskii, October 18, 2010. 105

―Rybolovnyi flot RF za 10 let sokratilsia pochti v dva raza,‖ Shipbuilding.ru, July 30, 2002,

http://shipbuilding ru/rus/news/russian/2002/07/30/fish/ 106

―Putin set ups on reviving domestic fisheries,‖ Barents Observer, April 19, 2010,

http://www.barentsobserver.com/putin-set-on-reviving-domestic-fisheries.4774586-16149.html 107

―Rossiia v etom godu nachnet obnovliat‘ rybolovnyi flot,‖ Rosbalt, September 1, 2010,

http://www.rosbalt.ru/business/2010/09/01/767677 html 108

A.-K. Jørgensen, ―Recent Development in the Russian Fisheries Sector,‖ pp. 95-99. 109

―Russian fisheries back on old heights.‖ 110

―Rosrybolovstvo izuchaet vozmozhnost‘ sozdaniia infrastrukturnoi rybolovnoi korporatsii,‖ Fish.gov.ru, March

17, 2011,

http://www.fish.gov.ru/DocLib3/%D0%BD%D0%BE%D0%B2%D0%BE%D1%81%D1%82%D1%8C004667.asp

x 111

S. Maksimov, ―Akvakul‘tura v ozhidaniia zakona,‖ Fishnews.ru, March 16, 2011,

166

http://www.fishnews.ru/rubric/zakon-ob-akvakulture/3527

Chapter 7

1 ―Arctic Shipping 2030: From Russia with Oil, Stormy Passage, or Arctic Great Game?,‖ ECON Report no. 2007-

070, p. 11. 2 C.L. Ragner, ―The Northern Sea Route,‖ in T. Hallberg (ed.), Barents—ett gränsland i Norden (Stockholm: Arena

Norden, 2008), pp. 114-127, here p. 127. 3 K. Bartenstein, ― The ―Arctic Exception‖ in the Law of the Sea Convention: A Contribution to Safer Navigation in

the Northwest Passage?,‖ Ocean Development & International Law, vol. 42, no. 1-2, 2011, pp. 22-52. 4 W.E. Butler, The Northeast Arctic Passage (Alphen aan den Rijn: Sijthoff & Noordhoof International Publishers,

1978). 5 E. Elliot-Meisel, ―Politics, Pride, and Precedent: The United States and Canada in the Northwest Passage,‖ Ocean

Development & International Law, vol. 40, no. 2, 2009, pp. 204-232. 6 Law on the Internal sea waters, territorial sea and adjacent zone of the Russian Federation, July 31, 1998.

7 Listed in W. Dunlap, Transit Passage in the Russian Arctic Straights (International Boundaries Research Unit,

University of Durham, 2002), pp. 26-34. 8 Ibid.

9 O.R. Young, Arctic Politics. Conflict and Cooperation in the Circumpolar North (Hanover, London: Dartmouth

College, 1992), p. 162. See also W. E. Butler, ―Soviet Maritime Jurisdiction in the Arctic,‖ Polar Record, no. 16,

1972, pp. 418-421; and A.L. Kolodkin, and M.E. Volosov, ―The Legal Regime of the Soviet Arctic: Major Issues,‖

Marine Policy, no. 14, 1990, pp. 163–167. 10

W. Ostreng, The Soviet Union in Arctic Waters (Honolulu: Law of the Sea Institute, 1987), p. 35. 11

―Convention on the Territorial Sea and the Contiguous Zone‖, done at Geneva on 29 April 1958, entered into

force on 10 September 1964,

http://untreaty.un.org/ilc/texts/instruments/english/conventions/8_1_1958_territorial_sea.pdf 12

B.R. Posen, ―The U.S. Military Response to Soviet Naval Developments in the High North,‖ in J. Svarre, and K.

Nyblom (eds.), The Military Buildup in the High North: American and Nordic Perspectives (Lanham: University

Press of America, 1986), p. 46. 13

I.V. Stepanov, and P. Ørebech, Legal Implications for the Russian Northern Sea Route and Westward in the

Barents Sea (Oslo: Fridtjof Nansens Institutt, 2005), p. 10. 14

W. Østreng (ed.), The Natural and Societal Challenges of the Northern Sea Route. A Reference Work (Dordrecht,

Netherlands: Kluwer Academic, 1999). 15

North Meets North Navigation and the Future of the Arctic, pp. 9 and 21. 16

Yu. Evdokimov, Yu. Batskikh, and A.V. Istomin, ―Severnyi morskoi put‘: problem, vozmozhnosti, perspektivy

vozrozhdeniia,‖ Ekonomicheskaia nauka sovremennoi Rossii, no. 2, 2000, pp. 101-112. 17

―Port Of Churchill Welcomes First-Ever Ship From Russia,‖ OMNItrax, October 17, 2007,

http://www.omnitrax.com/media-center/news/07-10-17/port-of-churchill-welcomes-first-ever-ship-from-russia.aspx 18

H. Schøyen, and S. Bråthen, ―Bulk Shipping via the Northern Sea Route versus via the Suez Canal: who will gain

from a Shorter Transport Route? An Explorative Case Study,‖ Paper presented at the 12th WCTR, July 11-15, 2010,

Lisbon, Portugal. 19

―Trailblazer Beluga,‖ TradeWinds, September 5, 2008, p; 18, http://www.beluga-

group.com/uploads/media/2008_09_08_TradeWinds_Trailblazer.pdf 20

―SCF Baltica arrives in Pevek - the first stage of the Arctic voyage is over,‖ Sovcomflot, August 25, 2010,

http://www.scf-group.com/npage.aspx?did=71730 21

―Historic sea route opens through the Arctic to China,‖ Marine News, February 27, 2010, http://marine-

news.net/Historic_sea_route_opens_through_the_Arctic_to_China-i18448.html 22

―More Oil and Ore along the Northern Sea Route,‖ Barents Observer, February 11, 2011,

http://www.barentsobserver.com/more-oil-and-ore-along-northern-sea-route.4884187-16149 html 23

―Beluga Shipping to focus on NSR for delivery of oversized cargo,‖ RDZh web site, February 22, 2011,

http://www.rzd-partner.com/news/2011/02/22/363308 html 24

For the main findings to the program in C.L. Ragner (ed.), The 21st Century—Turning Point for the Northern Sea

Route? (Oslo: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 2000). 25

―Arctic Shuttle Tanker,‖ Samsung website, http://www.shi.samsung.co.kr/Eng/product/ship_prd01.aspx

167

26

L. Jakobson, ―China Prepares For an Ice-free Arctic,‖ SIPRI Insights on Peace and Security, no. 2, 2010; J.

Spears, ―The Snow Dragon Moves into the Arctic Ocean Basin,‖ China Brief, vol. 11, no. 2, 2010,

http://www.jamestown.org/single/?no_cache=1&tx_ttnews%5Btt_news%5D=37429 27

Strategic Prediction for the Period up to 2010-2015 of Climate Change Expected in Russia and its Impacts on the

Sectors of the Russian National Economy, pp. 20-22. 28

Miaojia Liu, and J. Kronbak, ―The potential economic viability of using the Northern Sea Route (NSR) as an

alternative route between Asia and Europe,‖ Journal of Transport Geography,

vol. 18, no. 3, 2010, p. 441. 29

North Meets North Navigation and the Future of the Arctic, pp. 26-27. 30

http://www.akerarctic.fi/ships.htm 31

Miaojia Liu, and Kronbak, ―The potential economic viability of using the Northern Sea Route (NSR) as an

alternative route between Asia and Europe,‖ p. 440. 32

Arctic Marine Shipping Assessment 2009 Report (Arctic Council, 2009), p. 117. 33

Information given by Captain Stephen M. Carmel, from Maersk Line, CSIS Arctic Working Group, Washington

D.C., March 8, 2011. 34

V. C. Khon, I. I. Mokhov, M. Latif, V. A. Semenov and W. Park, ―Perspectives of Northern Sea Route and

Northwest Passage in the twenty-first century,‖ Climatic Change, vol. 100, no. 3-4, pp. 757-768. 35

―Tankers collide in the Northeast Passage,‖ Siku News, July 19, 2010,

http://www.sikunews.com/News/Russia/Tankers-collide-in-the-Northeast-Passage-7829 36

A. Nikitin, ―The new bill on radioactive waste management in Russia: An analysis,‖ Bellona, July 1, 2010,

http://www.bellona.org/position_papers/new_bill_on_radwaste 37

http://eppr.arctic-council.org/ 38

―Working Towards a Mandatory Polar Code,‖ ASOC Briefing, October 20, 2010,

http://www.asoc.org/storage/documents/IMO/ASOC_Polar_Code_Briefing_October_2010.pdf 39

http://www.iacs.org.uk/publications/publications.aspx?pageid=4&sectionid=3 40

―The Barents Sea‘s Emergency Rescue Organizations,‖ http://www.bellona.org/reports/report/1196949957.81 41

International Conference ―Prevention and Elimination of Emergency situations in the Arctic‖ Anadyr, August 19-

20, 2009. 42

―Russia to build 10 emergency services centers in the Arctic,‖ RIA Novosti, December 27, 2010,

http://en.rian.ru/russia/20101227/161943675 html 43

―Rossiia usilivaet voenno-morskoe prisutstvie v Arktike.‖ 44

On Polarnet see http://www.makarios.ru/en/projects/telecomm/ 45

―Bor‘ba za Arktiku nachinaetsia v kosmose,‖ Rosbalt.ru, June 3, 2008,

http://www.rosbalt.ru/2008/06/03/490353.html 46

A.V. Istomin, ―Rol‘ severnogo morskogo puti v khoziaistvennom razvitii i osvoenii severnykh territorii,‖ Sever

promyshlennyi, no. 6-7, 2007, http://www.helion-ltd.ru/rolofsevmorput 47

J. Drent, ―Commercial Shipping on the Northern Sea Route,‖ The Northern Mariner/Le Marin du nord, vol. III,

no. 2, 1993, pp. 1-17, here p. 8. 48

Ostreng, ―Looking Ahead to the Northern Sea Route,‖ p. 77. 49

A.V. Istomin, ―Rol‘ severnogo morskogo puti v khoziaistvennom razvitii i osvoenii severnykh territorii.‖ 50

P. Thorez, ―La Route maritime du Nord. Les promesses d‘une seconde vie,‖ Le Courrier des Pays de l‘Est, no. 2,

2008, pp. 48-59, here p. 58. 51

T. Mishina, ―Bor‘ba za Arktiku. Chto dast regionu razvitie severnogo sudokhodstva,‖ Rossiiskaia gazeta, January

29, 2011, http://www.rg.ru/2011/01/27/reg-dvostok/perevozki.html 52

North Meets North Navigation and the Future of the Arctic, p. 14. 53

―Arctic Shipping 2030: From Russia with Oil, Stormy Passage, or Arctic Great Game?,‖ p. 14 54

Maritime Doctrine of Russian Federation 2020, July 27, 2001,

http://www.oceanlaw.org/downloads/arctic/Russian_Maritime_Policy_2020.pdf, Russian version at

http://nvo ng.ru/wars/2001-08-03/4_sea_doctrina html 55

―Varandey Terminal boosted profit,‖ Barents Observer, June 3, 2010, http://www.barentsobserver.com/varandey-

terminal-boosted-profits.4789555-16178.html 56

Thorez, ―La Route maritime du Nord. Les promesses d‘une seconde vie,‖ p. 58. 57

Ragner, ―The Northern Sea Route,‖ p. 120. 58

Arctic Transportation System of Export of Oil from the North-West Russia (Saint-Petersburg: Central Marine

Research and s, October 2003), p. 12.

168

59

Maritime Doctrine of Russian Federation 2020. 60

N. Petrakov, ―Russia makes a step forward in battle for the Arctic, Russia,‖ Russia Today, July 24, 2009,

http://rt.com/politics/press/nezavisimaya/russia-makes-a-step-forward-in-battle-for-the-arctic/en/ 61

―Rosatom v 2011 g. ozhidaet pervogo zakaza na novyi atomnyi ledokol dlia Sevmorputi,‖ Rosatom, December 6,

2010, http://www.rosatom.ru/wps/wcm/connect/rosatom/rosatomsite/journalist/atomicsphere/7acdcb8044f1c20d882

eca6fd126209c 62

http://www.iceberg.sp ru/ 63

A. Komaritsyn, ―Rol‘ i zadachi voennoi gidrografii v ekonomicheskom osvoenii shel‘fa Arkticheskikh morei

Rossii,‖ Flot.com, no date,http://flot.com/science/nh1.htm 64

A trend already visible at the beginning of the 2000s. See ―Arctic Transportation System of Export of Oil from the

North-West Russia,‖ Central Marine Research And Design Institute Report, no. 4, 2003. 65

―Sudostroitel‘nyi kompleks OPK gotov k uchastiiu v gosudarstvenno-chastnom partnerstve‖, Okean Pribor, May

15, 2008, http://shipbuilding ru/rus/news/russian/2008/05/15/opk/ 66

―Esli Rossiia ne podgovit kadry, to na osvoenii severnogo shel‘fa budut rabotat‘ aziaty,‖ Regnum, 12 December

2006. 67

Speech by Minister of Industry and Energy Viktor Khristenko in the State Duma, 14 February 2007, ―Ob

osnovykh napravleniiakh gosudarstvennoi promyshlennoi politiki i ee realizatsiia v sudostroitel‘noi otrasli‖,

Fishnews.ru, February 15, 2007, http://www.fishnews.ru/news/1485 68

Yu. Zaitsev, ―Russia set to overhaul its Arctic fleet,‖ Ria Novosti, April 9, 2007,

http://en.rian.ru/analysis/20070409/63375060 html 69

―Lukoil‘s Arctic Fleet Welcomes Ice-Breaker Varandey,‖ Rustocks, February 3, 2009,

http://www.rustocks.com/index.phtml/pressreleases/1/113/17420?filter=2009 70

―10 million tons shipped from Varandey oil terminal,‖ Barents Observer, January 26, 2010,

http://www.barentsobserver.com/index.php?id=4725304 71

A smaller number at mid-2000s, see A. Bambulyak, and B. Frantzen, Oil Transport from the Russian part of the

Barents Region (Svanhovd: Svanhold Environmental Center, 2005), p. 22. 72

Arctic Marine Shipping Assessment 2009 Report, pp. 82-83. 73

―Norilsk Nickel completed creation of its own arctic fleet,‖ Nornik, February 26, 2009,

http://www.nornik.ru/en/press/news/2372/ 74

―Busy for Norilsk Nickel‘s fleet,‖ Barents Observer, January 6, 2010,

http://barentsobserver.custompublish.com/busy-for-norilsk-nickels-fleet.4670013-16149.html 75

Murmanskoe morskoe parokhodstvo, http://fleet.msco ru/ 76

FESCO, http://www.fesco.ru/index.html 77

Thorez, ―La Route maritime du Nord. Les promesses d‘une seconde vie,‖ p. 57. 78

―Gazprom: Dlia stroitel‘stva arkticheskogo flota u Rossii nedostatochno moshchnostei,‖ Rosbalt, June 24, 2009,

http://www.baltinfo.ru/2009/06/24/Dlya-stroitelstva-arkticheskogo-flota-u-Rossii-nedostatochno-moschnostei---

Gazprom-91342 79

―Northern Shipyard to produce LNG-carriers for Gazprom,‖ Barents Observer, September 14, 2009,

http://www.barentsobserver.com/northern-shipyard-to-produce-lng-carriers-for-gazprom.4630952-116320 html 80

―Gazprom : Arctic Platforms must be completed in 2010,‖ Barents Observer, February 22, 2010,

http://www.barentsobserver.com/gazprom-arctic-platforms-must-be-completed-in-2010.4750454-16149.html 81

http://www.scf-group.com/pages.aspx?anim=1&cid=373&cs=4 82

―Russia: Novatek and Atomflot Sign Cooperation Agreement‖, LNG World News, February 2, 2011,

http://www.lngworldnews.com/russia-novatek-and-atomflot-sign-cooperation-agreement/ 83

―Strategiia razvitiia sudostroitel‘noi promyshlennosti na period do 2020 g. i na dal‘neishuiu perspektivu,‖ ratified

on September 7, 2007, http://www.minpromtorg.gov ru/ministry/programm/5 84

―Sovcomflot Strategy for 2010-2015 approved by the Board of Directors,‖ Sovcomflot, December 21, 2009,

http://www.sovcomflot ru/npage.aspx?did=57531 85

Moe, and Rowe, ―Petroleum Activity in the Russian Barents Sea Constraints and Options for Norwegian

Offshore and Shipping Companies,‖ p. 18. 86

http://vyborgshipyard ru/en/?p=en_catalog 87

―Sudostroitel‘nyi kompleks OPK gotov k uchastiiu v gosudarstvenno-chastnom partnerstve.‖ 88

―Dominanta gosudarstvennogo podkhoda,‖ Arsenal. Voenno-promyslennoe obozrenie, no. 4, 2008,

http://rusarm.com/arhiv/n4_2008/dominanta_gosudarstvennogo_podhoda/

169

89

A. Gritskova, and E. Kiseleva, ―Ot Baltzavoda otchalil gendirektor,‖ Kommersant, no. 191 (4008) October 21,

2008, http://www.kommersant.ru/pda/kommersant html?id=1044809 90

―Assembling of floating nuclear power plant started,‖ Barents Observer, June 19, 2009,

http://www.barentsobserver.com/index.php?id=4591370&xxforceredir=1&noredir=1 91

See Zvezdochka‘s website, http://www.star.ru/index.php?page=130 92

See Sevmash website, http://www.sevmash.ru/?id=2857&lg=ru 93

See Sevmash website, http://www.star.ru/index.php?page=133 94

―Admiral Gorshkov delivery to India in 2012,‖ Hindustan Times, April 21, 2009,

http://www.hindustantimes.com/Admiral-Gorshkov-delivery-to-India-in-2012-Russia/Article1-402682.aspx 95

―Tsentr sudoremonta Zvezdochka postavit v 2009 g. inozakazchikam zapchasti dlia remonta voennykh korablei na

summu 30 millionov dollarov,‖ Korabel.ru, September 7, 2009,

http://www.korabel ru/news/comments/tsentr_sudoremonta_zvezdochka_postavit_v_2009_godu_inozakazchikam_z

apchasti_dlya_remonta_voennih_korabley_na_summu_30_mln_dol html 96

See Sevmash website, http://www.sevmash.ru/?id=753&lg=ru 97

See Sevmash website, http://www.sevmash.ru/?id=962&lg=ru 98

―Huge state orders for Zvezdochka shipyard,‖ Barents Observer, March 3, 2011,

http://www.barentsobserver.com/huge-state-orders-for-zvezdochka-shipyard.4892173-58932 html

Chapter 8

1 ―Socio-demographic situation in the Arctic,‖ August 30, 2010, http://int.rgo ru/arctic/arctic-overview/socio-

demographic-situation-in-the-arctic/ 2 J. Forsyth, A History of the Peoples of Siberia: Russia's North Asian Colony 1581-1990 (Cambridge: Cambridge

University Press (October 28, 1994). 3 See A. Wood (ed.) Siberia: Problems and Prospects for Regional Development (London: Croom Helm, 1987).

4 H. Blakkisrud, and G. Hønneland (eds.), Tackling Space: Federal Politics and the Russian North (Lanham,

Oxford, University Press of America, 2006). 55

See H. Carrère d‘Encausse, L‘Empire éclaté : la révolte des nations en URSS (Paris: Flammarion, 1978). 6 T. Heleniak, ―Population Perils in Russia at the Beginning of the 21st Century,‖ in S. Wegren, and D. Herspring,

After Putin‘s Russia: Past Imperfect, Future Unknown (Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield 2009), pp. 133–158. 7 N. Eberstadt, ―Russia's Peacetime Demographic Crisis: Dimensions, Causes, Implications,‖ NBR Report, May

2010, p. 28. The majority of information about this demographic section is taken from this report. 8 See the Russian Statistics Agency, ―Estestvennoe dvizhenie naseleniia v razreze sub‘‘ektov Federatsii na ianvar‘

2011,‖, Gosstat, http://www.gks.ru/free_doc/2011/demo/edn01-11 htm 9 Eberstadt, ―Russia's Peacetime Demographic Crisis,‖ p. 67.

10 Ibid., p. 11.

11 Ibid., p. 44.

12 N. Eberstadt, ―The Security Consequences of Democratic Decline,‖ International conference on ―Matching

Ambitions and Realities: What Future for Russia?,‖ Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS), Ottawa, May 6-

7, 2010. 13

Eberstadt, ―Russia's Peacetime Demographic Crisis,‖ p. 22. 14

Ibid., p. 37. 15

Ibid., p. 24. 16

T. Heleniak, ―Regional Distribution of the Muslim Population of Russia,‖ Eurasian Geography and Economics,

vol. 47, no. 4, 2007, pp. 426-448. 17

See for instance A. Tolkacheva, and R. Akifieva ―Natsionalizm i tolerantnost‘ v propravitel‘skoi presse Sankt-

Peterburga‖, in M. Laruelle (ed.), Russkii natsionalizm: sotsial‘nyi i kul‘turnyi kontekst (Moscow: NLO, 2008), pp.

371-400; T.G. Skrebtsova, ―Obraz migranta v sovremennykh rossiiskikh SMI‖, Politicheskaia lingvistika, vol. 23,

no. 3, 2007, pp. 115-118: D. Poletaev, ―Mify i predrassudki o migratsii v Rossiu‖, Dvizhenie, January 1, 2009,

http://dvizh.org/2009/01/12/813; V. Tishkov, ―SMI I ksenofobiia‖, Ethnonet, http://www.ethnonet ru/lib/1612-

04.html. 18

M. Laruelle, ―The Ideological Shift on the Russian Radical Right: From Demonizing the West to Fear of

Migrants.‖ 19

http://demographymatters.blogspot.com/2010/01/on-russias-brief-population-increase.html

170

20

A.V. Istomin, ―Severnyi morskoi put‘: organizatsionno-ekonomicheskie osnovy vozrozhdenia i razvitiia,‖

Formirovanie osnov sovremennoi strategii prirodopol‘zovaniia v Evro-Arkticheskom regione, 2005, pp. 471-481. 21

A. Heinapuu, ―Finno-Ugric peoples in Russia. Territorial or Cultural Autonomy,‖ 2004 Estonian Ministry Of

Foreign Affairs Yearbook (Estonia: MFA, 2004), pp. 71-75. 22

Yu. Slezkine, Artic Mirrors. Russia and the Small Peoples of the North (Ithaca, London: Cornell University Press,

1994). 23

More details in M. Feshbach, Russia's Health and Demographic Crises: Policy Implications and Consequences

(Washington, D.C.: Chemical & Biological Arms Control Institute, 2003). See also S.A. Crate, ―Co-Option in

Siberia: The Case of Diamonds and the Vilyuy Sakha,‖ Polar Geography, vol. 26, no. 4, 2002, pp. 418-435. 24

A.N. Petrov, ―Lost Generations? Indigenous Population of the Russian North in the Post-Soviet Era,‖ Canadian

Studies in Population, vol. 35, no. 2, 2008, pp. 269–290. 25

P. Söderlund, The Dynamics of Federalism in Russia (Helsinki: Åbo Akademi University Press, 2006), and on

contemporary issues, A. Makarychev, ―New Challenges to Russian Federalism,‖ PONARS Eurasia Policy Memo,

no. 75, 2009. 26

C. Ross, and A. Campbell, Federalism and Local Politics in Russia (London: Routledge, 2010). 27

I. Overland, ―Indigenous Rights in the Russian Far North‖, in Wilson Rowe, Russia and the North, pp. 165-186. 28

J.-R. Raviot, ―Géographie politique de la Russie en 2010,‖ Hérodote, no. 138, 2010, p. 171. 29

See for instance ―Indigenous Peoples - Excluded and Discriminated,‖ Human Rights Report, no. 43, 2006, pp. 14-

18. 30

Anonymous interviews with Russian experts on the Arctic, MGIMO and IMEMO, September 24 and 26, 2010. 31

See their website http://www.raipon.info/en/ 32

Thorez, ―La Route maritime du Nord. Les promesses d‘une seconde vie,‖ p. 55. 33

T. Wites, ―Depopulation of the Russian Far East. Magadan Oblast, A Case Study,‖ Miscellanea Geographica, vol.

12, 2006, pp. 185-196. 34

T. Heleniak, ―Growth Poles and Ghost Towns in the Russian Far North,‖ in Wilson Rowe, Russia and the North,

p. 129. 35

T. Heleniak, ―Out-migration and Depopulation of the Russian North during the 1990s,‖ Post-Soviet Geography,

vol. 40, no. 3, 1999, pp. 281-304. 36

―Population statistics of the Russian Far East,‖ Russian Analytical Digest, no. 82, July 2010, p. 11. 37

Eberstadt, ―Russia's Peacetime Demographic Crisis,‖ p. 191. 38

T.S. Heleniak, ―Changing Settlement Patterns across the Russian North at the Turn of the Millenium,‖ in M.

Tykkyläinen, and V. Rautio (eds.), Russia‘s Northern Regions on the Edge: Communities, Industries and

Populations from Murmansk to Magadan (Helsinki:Aleksanteri Institute, 2008), pp. 25-52. 39

Russian Federation. Reducing Poverty through Growth and Social Policy Reform (Washington, D.C.: World

Bank, 2005). 40

N. Thompson, ―Administrative Resettlement and the Pursuit of Economy: The Case of Chukotka,‖ Polar

Geography, vol. 26, no. 4, 2002, pp. 270-288. 41

Heleniak, ―Growth Poles and Ghost Towns in the Russian Far North,‖ pp. 146-148. 42

Ibid., pp. 137-138. 43

Eberstadt, ―Russia's Peacetime Demographic Crisis,‖ p. 250. 44

Ibid., p. 286. 45

O. Kolesnikova, ―Stop, kadry. V 2010-2020g. obostroitsia bor‘ba za trudovye resursy,‖ Rossiiskaia gazeta, June

6, 2008; ―Dostatochno li v Rossii professional‘nykh kadrov dlia investitsionnogo rosta?,‖ Polit.ru, October 30,

2008, http://www.polit.ru/research/2008/10/30/demoscope349.html 46

http://demographymatters.blogspot.com/2010/01/on-russias-brief-population-increase.html 47

Eberstadt, ―Russia's Peacetime Demographic Crisis,‖ p. 171. 48

A. Mansoor, B. Quillin (eds.) Migration and Remittances. Eastern Europe and the Former Soviet Union

(Washington: The World Bank, 2006). 49

Eberstadt, ―Russia's Peacetime Demographic Crisis,‖ p. 153. 50

A. de Tinguy, La Grande Migration. La Russie et les Russes depuis l'ouverture du rideau de fer (Paris: Plon,

2004). 51

A. Byford, ―The Russian Diaspora in International Relations: ‗Compatriots‘ in Britain,‖ Europe Asia Studies,

forthcoming 2011. 52

Eberstadt, ―Russia's Peacetime Demographic Crisis,‖ p. 163.

171

53

G. Ioffe, and Zh. Zayonchkovskaya, ―Immigration to Russia: Why it is inevitable, and how large it may have to be

to provide the workforce Russia needs,‖ NCEEER Working Paper, January 2011. 54

M. Repnikova, and H. Balzer, ―Chinese Migration to Russia: Missed Opportunities,‖ WWICS Eurasian Migration

Paper, no. 3, 2010, pp. 13-15. 55

Zh. Zaionchkovskaia, and al, Immigranty v Moskve (Moscow: Tri kvadrata, 2009), Zh.A. Zaionchkovskaia, and

G.S. Vitkovskaia (eds.), Postsovetskie transformatsii: otrazhenie v migratsiiakh (Moscow: Tsent migratsionnykh

issledovanii, 2009). 56

Heleniak, ―Growth Poles and Ghost Towns in the Russian Far North,‖ p. 138. 57

Hill, and Gaddy, The Siberian Curse, p. 179. 58

―Investitsii v cheloveka,‖ Rossiiskie regiony, no. 4, 2009, http://www.gosrf.ru/journal/article/64 59

A. Ozharovskii, ―Rossiiskie AES stroiat gastartbaitery-nelegaly,‖ Bellona, February 14, 2011,

http://www.bellona.ru/articles_ru/articles_2011/Rafshan 60

Information given by Russian experts on the Arctic, SOPS, Moscow, October 25, 2010. 61

Eberstadt, ―Russia's Peacetime Demographic Crisis,‖ p. 220-245. 62

―Staff shortages cripple Russian business,‖ Russia Today, April 9, 2008, http://rt.com/business/news/staff-

shortages-cripple-russian-business/ 63

M. Laruelle (ed.), Labor Migration and Social Upheaval as the Face of Globalization in Central Asia,

forthcoming, 2011. 64

―Rossiia snimaet bar‘ery dlia gastarbaiterov iz stran SNG,‖ Trud, May 19, 2010, http://www.trud.ru/article/19-05-

2010/242381_rossija_snimaet_barjery_dlja_gastarbajterov_iz_stran_sng.html 65

Anonymous information given by Russian experts, MGIMO, IMEMO and SOPS, Moscow, September 2010. 66

C. Bonifazi, and al. (eds.), International Migration in Europe: New Trends and New Methods of Analysis

(Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2008). 67

Personal observations during fieldwork in Vladivostok, October 2010. 68

B.A. Ruble, J. Koehn, and N.E. Popson (eds.), Fragmented Space in the Russian Federation (Washington, D.C.:

Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars and Johns Hopkins University, 2011). 69

J. Radvanyi, La Nouvelle Russie. Géographie économique, régions et nations, géopolitique (Paris : Masson,

Armand Colin, 1996), p. 60. 70

Raviot, ―Géographie politique de la Russie en 2010,‖ p. 169. 71

Ibid., pp. 161-180. 72

Heleniak, ―Growth Poles and Ghost Towns in the Russian Far North,‖ p. 134. 73

M. Laruelle, ―Russia in Central Asia: Old History, New Challenges?,‖ EUCAM Policy Papers, September 2009,

http://www.ceps.eu/book/russia-central-asia-old-history-new-challenges 74

Anonymous information given by Russian experts, MGIMO, IMEMO and SOPS, Moscow, September 2010. 75

Ibid. 76

Ibid. 77

See Tykkyläinen, and Rautio (eds.), Russia‘s Northern Regions on the Edge: Communities, Industries and

Populations from Murmansk to Magadan. 78

―Murmanskaia oblast‘‖, Morskaia kollegiia, no date,

http://www.morskayakollegiya.ru/primorskie_regio/arktika/murmanskaja_obla/ 79

―Gas resources on Russia‘s Euro-Arctic shelf,‖ Bellona, no date,

http://www.bellona.org/reports/report/1197337371.03 80

―Transport and Communication‖, Barents Info, no date, http://www.barentsinfo.org/?DeptID=3641 81

L.S. Voronkov, ―Geopolitical Dimensions of Transport and Logistics Development in the Barents Euro- Arctic

Transport Area (BEATA),‖ Barents Institute Paper, 2009. 82

―The Russians are coming!,‖ Barents Observer, January 6, 2011, http://www.barentsobserver.com/the-russians-

are-coming.4868975-99350.html 83

―Welcome to Kirkenes!‖, Barents Observer, no date, http://www.barentsobserver.com/index.php?id=542804 84

http://www.morskayakollegiya.ru/primorskie_regio/arktika/arhangel/ 85

A. Shalevyi, ―Rossiia konsolidiruet svoi pozitsii v Arktike,‖ Barents Observer, April 22, 2010,

http://www.barentsobserver.com/enefnnecn-eoefefnefereceaecnnemn-nesefec-eiefemecnecec-es-

eneoneceoem.4777757-16149.html 86

See the website Ural Industrial – Ural Polar Corporation, http://www.en.cupp ru/about_project.html 87

―Nenetskij avtonomnyi okrug,‖ Morskaia kollegiia, no date,

http://www.morskayakollegiya.ru/primorskie_regio/arktika/nenetskij_avtono/

172

88

―Future bases for the northern sea route pointed out,‖ Barents Observer, December 17, 2010,

http://www.barentsobserver.com/future-bases-for-the-northern-sea-route-pointed-out.4863371-16288 html 89

―Jamalo-Nenetskij avtonomnyi okrug,‖ Morskaia kollegiia, no date,

http://www.morskayakollegiya.ru/primorskie_regio/arktika/jamalo-nenetskij/ 90

―Tajmyskij avtonomnyi okrug,‖ Morskaia kollegiia, no date,

http://www.morskayakollegiya.ru/primorskie_regio/arktika/tajmyrskij_dolga/ 91

For the 1990s see U.A. Vinokurova, ―The Ethnopolitical Situation in the Republic of Sakha (Yakutia),‖

Anthropology & Archeology of Eurasia, vol. 34, no. 1, 1995, pp. 60-98; and V. Robbek, ―Language Situation in the

Yakutia Republic (Sakha),‖ in E. Kasten (ed.), Bilcultural Education in the North: Ways of Preserving and

Enhancing Indigenous Peoples‘ Languages and Traditional Knowledge (Münster: Waxmann Verlag), pp. 113-122.

See also D. Gorenburg, Minority Ethnic Mobilization in the Russian Federation (Cambridge: Cambridge University

Press, 2003). 92

T. Argounova-Law, ―Diamonds. A Contested Symbol in the Republic of Sakha (Yakutia),‖ in E. Kasten (ed.),

Properties of Culture, Culture as Property. Pathways to Reform in Post-Soviet Siberia (Berlin: Dietrich Reimer

Verlag, 2004), pp. 257-265. 93

Anonymous discussions with Russian scholars in Vladivostok, October 11, 2010. 94

V. Chlenov, ―Arkticheskaia doroga zhizni,‖ Parliamentskaia gazeta na Dal‘nem Vostoke, no. 9(252), 2008,

http://www.parldv.ru/index.php?mod=art_show&id_art=391. This term refers to the Ladoga Road that had allowed

Leningrad to survive the Nazi blockade during the Second World War. 95

T. Uttal, ―The Tiksi Hydrometeorological International Facility for Atmospheric, Terrestrial and Ocean

Observations,‖ paper presented at the 11th Conference on Polar Meteorology and Oceanography, May, 2-5, 2011,

Boston, http://ams.confex.com/ams/11Polar/webprogram/Paper188852 html 96

―Respublika Sakha,‖ Morskaia kollegiia, no date,

http://www.morskayakollegiya.ru/primorskie_regio/arktika/respublika_saha_/ 97

Chlenov, ―Arkticheskaia doroga zhizni.‖ 98

Istomin, ―Rol‘ severnogo morskogo puti v khoziaistvennom razvitii i osvoenii severnykh territorii.‖ 99

International Conference ―Prevention and Elimination of Emergency situations in the Arctic,‖ Anadyr, August 19-

20, 2009. 100

―Proekt razvitiia porta Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskii v kachestve khaba vostochnoi chasti Severnogo morskogo

puti,‖ Sever Dal‘nego Vostoka, September 10, 2010, http://severdv.ru/news/show/?id=43721 101

Personal Observation during fieldwork in Petropavlovsk-Kamchatkii, October 19, 2010. 102

T. Mishina, ―Bor‘ba za Arktiku. Chto dast regionu razvitie severnogo sudokhodstva.‖ 103

M. Krans, ―Russia's Northern Sea Route: Just a dotted line on the map?,‖ RIA Novosti, May 23, 2007,

http://en.rian.ru/analysis/20070523/65989859 html 104

V.M. Abramov, and al., ―Bilibino nuclear power station,‖ Atomic Energy, vol. 35, no. 5, 1973, pp. 977-982. 105

See the Interbering website, http://interbering.com/ 106

―Russian Far East Regions Plan for Railroad to the Bering Strait,‖ Interbering, January 8, 2010,

http://interbering.com/2010-8-1-Russian-Far-East-Plan.html

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189

3. SUMMARIZING THE IMPORTANCE OF THE ISSUE FOR THE U.S. DEFENSE

AND SECURITY PLANNING COMMUNITY

Even if the validity of data on global warming is still debated within the U.S. security

community, this must not halt preparations for possible futures. As said in the 2010 Quadrennial

Defense Review Report, climate change acts as an ―instability accelerant.‖ As with nuclear

terrorism, deadly pandemics, or biological warfare, climate change must therefore be an integral

part of strategic planning.

Climatic uncertainty calls for strategic flexibility. It is therefore necessary to highlight those

procedures likely to increase predictability in the region.

A twenty-first century security architecture for the Arctic has to be built now, otherwise trends

that are unfavorable to U.S. interests could influence global orientations to come.

The U.S. stance on the evolving strategic landscape in the Arctic needs:

1) To be more visible internationally

The ratification of UNCLOS is a necessary element for international recognition of

Washington‘s legitimacy in jointly shaping the Arctic future. The UNCLOS maintains the

freedom of navigation and offers a unique legal framework for U.S. claims on its continental

shelf.

The issue of creating legally-binding instruments in the framework of the Arctic Council

needs to be discussed.

The creation of an Arctic Command has to be discussed, and, if it not created, then the

overlap of responsibilities – or rather the gap – between EUCOM, NORTHCOM and PACOM

has to be solved.

2) To be better balanced in terms of regional priorities

The U.S. view on the Arctic is too focused on internal North American issues, especially

on relations with Canada.

The entire north of Europe (Nordic countries and Germany) is rethinking its relations

with its Russian neighbor. Russia‘s resilience or otherwise to climate change and its strategies in

the Arctic could be critical to protecting transatlantic security interests. The United States must

put forward an Arctic framework to the EU as a part of its transatlantic commitment, and to

avoid European countries having to face Russia alone.

The United States also needs to valorize the U.S.-Russia ―border‖ by developing

activities between both Pacific coasts.

190

3) To be more innovative

Hard security is well defined, but soft security is not.

The U.S. Arctic Policy, ratified in January 2009, naturally focuses on the defense of national

interests in the Arctic, in particular highlighting the strategic location of the region for deterrence

systems and the freedom to travel at sea. On these two questions, the New START treaty with

Russia guarantees the nuclear balance between Russia and the United States in the Arctic. As for

the second question, that of free navigation in the sea, it will remain unresolved for the time

being as the American viewpoint stands in contradiction to the stances of Russia and Canada

concerning the Northwest and Northeast Passage, but entails no risk of conflict. It is mainly a

symbolic and financial issue.

The focus of the U.S. Arctic Policy is on hard military issues. Soft issues are mentioned, but, as

shown by the 2009 U.S. Navy Arctic Roadmap, the capabilities gap is huge. Looking forward,

soft issues are the main problem, and soft can sometimes evolve into hard. It is therefore

necessary to advance the discussion on the U.S. role in framing soft security procedures in the

Arctic. This includes search and rescue systems, climatic emergency and pollution preparedness,

satellite control, and the fight against smuggling. The question of tensions over fishing stocks

between Russian, Asian, and U.S. trawlers needs to be properly addressed, as this kind of

conflict can impact negatively on North Pacific security, mainly because of the tense relations

between North and South Korea, China, and Japan.

Time Management is an issue for the U.S. Navy

The Arctic does not appear to be a pressing and hot issue in comparison with the problems that

the United States is facing in the Middle East, Afghanistan and Pakistan, and Asia. However,

time management is key for the Arctic and Russia. On this point, Russia is clearly ahead. Even

with its financial difficulties, bureaucratic inertia, and the disconnection of its great ambitions

from reality, Moscow is the most forward looking of the Arctic powers (with Norway) and has

an elaborated holistic vision of the objectives and outcomes it wants to achieve there.

The question of building a new icebreaker therefore needs a public debate on its costs and

benefits. The United States will already be in a critical situation in the second half of the 2010s,

with almost no means of travelling in an autonomous way in the Arctic. Given the necessary

construction time, the issue needs to be put on the table as soon as possible. Geostrategic

uncertainty in the Arctic cannot afford to be lacking in areas such as logistics. Should the

Northwest and Northeast Passages become ice-free and traffic grow, the capabilities gap will

increase and U.S. polar icebreaking capability will be at risk.

This also goes for the U.S. Navy in Asia. In the next several decades, the most challenging

contingencies are likely to be maritime and in Asia. If nothing changes in U.S. shipbuilding

strategy very soon, before 2030 the Chinese submarine fleet will outnumber that of the United

States. China will also have at its disposal the space systems necessary for intercontinental power

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projection. Beijing could challenge the U.S. Navy‘s access to the western Pacific and the Arctic,

and the time needed to close the gap will be too long to protect U.S. interests.

Enhance both bilateral and multilateral activities to reduce the ambiguities of Russia‘s

revival of military activities in the Arctic

The question remains of whether NATO can serve as the primary vehicle for ensuring Arctic

security, and if so, then how. NATO‘s weakness in the Arctic is its focus on hard security, while

the chief local security concerns will be soft ones. However, both NATO and Russia have

already collaborated in search and rescue and disaster management, and have the experience of

joint counter-piracy operations in the Horn of Africa. This framework can be transposed and

developed in the Arctic.

On a bilateral level, the U.S.-Russia joint task force on search and rescue through the Arctic

Council and the joint-traffic control systems operated through the NATO-Russia Council‘s

Cooperative Airspace Initiative (CAI) can each serve as a departure point for expanded

cooperation. The Global Maritime Partnership initiative can also be used as a global framework

for joint activities in the Arctic.

Because of the importance of soft security issues in the Arctic, the most concerned body is the

U.S. Coast Guard, more than even the Navy itself. Possible joint coordination of Arctic littoral

coast guard activities should be explored. This would imply, however, that the U.S. Coast Guard

is better equipped, in particular on the northern border in Alaska. It is not easy to cooperate with

the Russian FSB; the Ministry of Emergency Situations (EMERCOM) is the most open to

international cooperation and has to be prioritized.

3) To be more holistic and forward-looking

Arctic is knowledge

Just like the United States, so too Russia aims to have knowledge power status in the Arctic. This

civil side can be easily developed with no risks of tensions and will respond to Moscow‘s need

for symbolic recognition of its status in the Arctic. In twenty or thirty years, China will be able to

challenge the United States in terms of knowledge, and to have knowledge is to have political

power. This issue needs to be closely monitored.

The main actors in the Arctic can be private ones

The private sector is summoned to play a major role in developing Arctic infrastructure and

capabilities. For this it has both the financial means and the technical knowledge, and the more it

gets involved in the Arctic, the greater it will need a joint security strategy with the defense

community. The U.S. strategic planning community should therefore discuss ways to engage the

private sector. Seasonal U.S. coast guard activities on the Alaskan Arctic side could, for instance,

be carried out using infrastructure built by the private sector. It is important to discuss dual use

for some infrastructure and logistical means.

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The future of the Arctic can be Asian

The role of Asian countries in the Arctic has yet to be studied in detail. The U.S. security and

defense communities need to get more information and draw up more scenarios, first on the role

of China, and then on those of Japan and Korea. These countries could radically alter the shape

of the Arctic landscape, both strategically and commercially. For Russia, the Asian countries can

become both key partners and key competitors. The Russia-China axis of convenience will be

influenced by relations in the Arctic. The place of India in the Arctic may also be discussed in a

global framework dealing with the reshaping of the maritime world order.

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4. RUSSIA’S ARCTIC IN 2040: THREE POSSIBLE FUTURES

Russia‘s Arctic faces multiple possible futures. What do these futures look like? What are the

strengths and weaknesses of each of them? What kind of geopolitical axes with the main and

regional powers will shape them? What is the pathway to each of these futures? The U.S. defense

and security planning community needs to understand what these possible futures look like.

Without this knowledge, it will not be able to participate in shaping the Arctic picture in a way

that corresponds to its own interests, and not be able to prepare itself should the actual future be

detrimental to its interests.

Scenarios are not designated to forecast the future, but to help us to cope with any of them, as the

worst scenarios are the ones we have not thought about. Most of the possible futures will never

become reality, but they still are part of the range of future possibilities. They are based on the

proper identification of current drivers and trends that may shape the decades to come.

The three scenarios presented here do not all have the same degree of probability. The first is the

least probable and the most provocative while at the same time certainly plausible in its main

trends. The two others are more probable.

Each one brings together various elements – the global price of hydrocarbons, and the domestic

and international situations in Europe, the U.S., Asia, or the Middle East. Then, specific drivers

for Russia are added – the ―modernization‖ issue, choices between different economic policies,

political regime change, demography and migration, and management of the problematic North

Caucasus and Far East regions.

All three scenarios use climate change as a starting point, but with different results according to

each scenario – manageable by technology, uncontrolled and chaotic, or manageable but very

costly.

All three scenarios predict that Russia‘s territory and population will decrease, but to varying

degrees and with different geographic areas of focus – loss of the North Caucasus and/or the Far

East, withdrawal to European regions and/or to the North.

All three scenarios forecast various forms of Russian nationalism and a complex relationship

with migrants/indigenous populations.

Strategic planning often tends to outline heightened activity and heightened interest coming from

major powers vis-à-vis the region(s) in question, but the scenarios presented here also take into

account the often overlooked possibility of a decreased interest in Russia coming from the West

or China. Sometimes indifference is worse than hatred.

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Scenario 1 Scenario 2 Scenario 3

Dominant Power in the

Arctic

Russia The West China

Climate Change Manageable by

Technology

Uncontrolled and

Chaotic

Medium

Market Price of

Hydrocarbons and Level

of Exploitation of

Russian Arctic Fields

High Low Medium

Shipping on the

Northern Sea Route

High Low Medium

Russian Political Regime Very Authoritarian and

Nationalistic

Democratic

populist

Unstable,

divided

between pro-

European and

pro-Chinese

Lobbies

Importance of Migration Low Medium High

Population Living in the

Arctic

Russians Indigenous Peoples Chinese and

Central Asians

Far East Controlled Controlled Lost

North Caucasus Lost Lost Controlled

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SCENARIO 1

A WHITE RUSSIA IN CONTROL OF THE “LAND OF TOMORROW”

In this scenario Russia has become an Arctic superpower. Due to extreme climate change that

took place more quickly than anticipated and rampant demand for energy, Russia is bringing in

major revenue from the exploitation of hydrocarbons and rare earth metals (REMs), not only

from its Arctic territory but also from the continental shelf, which was attributed to Russia by the

UN Commission. Russian companies control the sea lines of communication along Russia‘s

entire Arctic coast. The country has strengthened its hydroelectric and wind power generation,

and manages the technologies adapted to climate change. Moscow was able to contain Chinese

expansion by addressing Beijing‘s mineral and energy needs in exchange for the respect of

Russia‘s far eastern borders and a controlled influx of migrants. Russia has also overtaken

Europe – weakened by internal problems – and the U.S. – busy with the Middle East and

confined by its relations to Beijing and Mexico. Due to a series of global economic and

geopolitical circumstances, Russia has pursued a political regime that is authoritarian, nationalist,

partly autarkic, and pro-birth. The regime provides increased salaries to its population, which has

shifted to the North due to the loss of the southern part of the country. Ideological constraints are

strict, natalism is strongly encouraged, and migration is tightly controlled as Kremlin-led

propaganda glorifies Aryan ethno-nationalism. Moscow cultivates the image of a pure Nordic

Russia, the final fortress of the ―white world‖ in the face of the invasion of ―peoples of color,‖

and endowed with a world mission in the Arctic lands.

High in his 34th

floor office, Igor Vassilievich Petrunov, CEO of Norilsk Nickel, had been

awakened early this morning when the building jolted and shook. He was used to it – the

company building, inaugurated in 2031, had become the symbol of Russia‘s status as a great

power, even appearing on the new currency. Built with state-of-the-art systems using anti-

seismic techniques, the building was mounted on stilts and able to stand firm on ground that was

no longer stable, thanks to stakes hundreds of meters long penetrating through the layer of

permafrost all the way to stable rock. The speed with which climate change occurred in the

Arctic and sub-arctic regions took the expert community completely by surprise, and the Arctic

climatic developments quickly made early twenty-first century predictions obsolete.

This unexpected free time gave the busy CEO some time for reading. Igor Vassilievich reread

with pleasure Alexander Solzhenitsyn‘s One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, a symbol of the

Soviet period that his parents often spoke to him about with nostalgia. Igor Vassilievich thought

of himself as a symbolic character as well, the incarnation of his era. The morning‘s Pravda

referred to him again in the headlines as ―The Prince of the North,‖ a nickname he had acquired

at the beginning of the 2030s when he succeeded in making Norilsk Nickel into Russia‘s number

one company. Like Ivan Denisovich‘s days, Igor Vassilievich‘s were also well organized:

morning meeting with his executive board for the week‘s economic assessment, then video-

conference with his three ―partners in crime‖ – CEO of Gunvor Oil Company, CEO of Russian

Unified Shipping Corporation, and CEO of State Electric Corporation. Afternoons were given

over to managing internal, social, and ideological questions.

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During the executive board meeting Igor Vassilievich took stock of the company with his trusted

colleagues. Norilsk Nickel had definitely changed over the course of a century. The company

had celebrated its 100th

anniversary in 2035 with numerous commemorations focused on the

creation of the first Arctic metallurgical complex in 1935, in the years of massive

industrialization under Stalin. However, it was in the 2010s that the future of the mining complex

took on a new direction. Following the difficult years of privatization in the early 1990s,

business began to pick up quickly, and the company created its first Arctic fleet in the late 2000s.

Then, bit-by-bit, it bought up the other metallurgical complexes, making Norilsk the second

largest company in Russia after Gazprom in the 2020s, which Norilsk then surpassed in the

2030s.

Igor Vassilievich‘s father, Dmitri Petrunov, CEO of the company in the years 2010-2020, had

the foresight to play the climate change card to the maximum. In the 2000s Norilsk had built its

wealth on nickel, palladium, platinum and copper. In the following decade Dmitri Petrunov

concentrated on rare earth metals (REMs), which permitted Russia to gain wealth quickly on this

booming market. The Siberian substratum was rich in these precious minerals, but Norilsk‘s real

fortune came from the continental shelf. Indeed, in 2016 the UN Commission on the Limits of

the Continental Shelf reached its decision and validated all Russian claims on the Lomonosov

and Mendeleev Ridges. Suddenly finding itself with an additional 1.2 million square kilometers

of continental shelf, Russia leapt to the forefront of the international scene as the number one

global mineral power. Beijing and New Delhi, in growing competition for technology

production, had to make binding agreements with Moscow so as to obtain REMs and be

guaranteed export quotas that would keep their industries from being jeopardized.

With the extraordinary revenues brought in from the exploitation of these minerals, Norilsk was

able to invest heavily in research and development related to climate change. However, Dmitri

Petrunov was not promoting green industries in the name of the ecological ideology to which

Europe had succumbed. On the contrary, his vision, fully supported by the Kremlin, was

pragmatic, based on profits as opposed to principles. Norilsk‘s motto during those years – ―no

mitigation, only adaptation‖ – paid off. The company thereby granted itself a pollution permit

thanks to the revenues from REMs exploitation, and invested in research on improving urban

Arctic conditions of life. While Europe tried to focus on respect for nature, biodiversity, and the

rights of indigenous populations, Moscow went for the industrial development of the Arctic.

Norilsk quickly positioned itself at the forefront of Arctic technologies. It engaged in preparing

urban and industrial infrastructures for the rapid thawing of permafrost, which took on massive

proportions in the 2020s; improving the urban lifestyle of a multi-million-inhabitant megalopolis

(access to artificial light during the winter months, communal spaces protected from the climate

change-related wind storms, etc.); and anticipating agricultural shifts due to temperature

increases in northern Russia. Thanks to his father‘s intuition Igor Vassilievich had inherited a

true economic and technological empire.

After a quick analysis of the state of the global market for precious minerals, the board meeting

moved on to a review of Norilsk‘s principal research programs. Since 2032, the company had

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been selling its technology for infrastructures resistant to permafrost thaw to Canada and Iceland,

and was working toward signing a major contract with the state of Alaska. The city of Norilsk,

inextricably linked to the company with Igor Vassilievich as its vice mayor, had hosted

numerous international delegations, primarily from Asia and the Middle East, interested in

studying the urban success of Norilsk. With its 10 million inhabitants, the city had a futuristic

allure that would surely have reminded Dmitri Petrunov in his time of the emirate city of Dubai.

Finally, Norilsk‘s subsidiary, Arctic Agriculture Ltd., was on its way to becoming the number

one agribusiness industry in Russia. This company alone allowed the country to preserve its food

self-sufficiency when the historically fertile southern regions succumbed to massive drought.

Norilsk was, in fact, the first to produce fruits and vegetables above the Arctic Circle and to

attempt exotic crops in greenhouses. Without Arctic Agriculture Ltd., the Kremlin would have

probably faced social unrest in the southern regions during the major droughts of 2033. Popular

uprisings highlighted the growing importance of Arctic agriculture for Russia‘s food self-

sustainability. President Boris Plevnin ended up thanking Igor Vassilievich for having put

Norilsk‘s accumulated competence in food production management in the service of the political

authorities. As expected because of the close alliance between Norilsk and the Kremlin in the

name of Russian food security, the Duma voted to award Norilsk an exclusive license for the

exploitation of seabed minerals.

Igor Vassilievich then moved on to his daily videoconference with the three main Russian

oligarchs. At the beginning of the 2010s, Gunvor was only a modest private oil company, in

competition with Rosneft, but which had adopted a holistic strategy: it was seeking to control rail

freight, oil terminals, port infrastructure, and tanker fleets in the Baltic Sea to shore up the most

profitable markets, namely those with Europe. After 2018 Gunvor rose in power once the former

president Vladimir Putin had negotiated his departure from the Kremlin in exchange for

complete political and economic immunity, and he revealed (as had long been suspected) that he

was Gunvor‘s principal owner. In the 2020s Gunvor managed to benefit from Rosneft‘s strategic

errors, epitome of the fratricidal wars between siloviki, and then take possession of Rosneft‘s

assets in an opaque legal battle that made Dmitri Petrunov comment, off the record, that it was a

sad remake of the 2003 Yukos affair and that the predator had become the prey in the end. At the

beginning of the 2030s, Gunvor had merged with Gazprom, this time in more peaceful manner,

thereby creating the first oil and gas company in the world.

Due to its holistic approach Gunvor succeeded in becoming the principal trader of Russian oil

and gas to Europe, and emerged as a symbol of Russia growing weight in Europe. Via the Nord

Stream, Gunvor was able to access to Berlin, negotiate directly with the Scandinavian capitals,

and had acquired shares in the biggest European energy companies. Gunvor also developed

innovative ice and offshore technology. A new Finlandization of Europe by a powerful Arctic

Russia had, in fact, come about. However, Gunvor would not have enjoyed such success had it

not been for two major historical events that changed the future of fossil fuels: the Japanese

nuclear disaster of 2015 and the European economic crisis of 2022.

In spite of Japan‘s nuclear disaster in March 2011, Tokyo continued to keep its nuclear sector

alive. In 2015 an even more powerful tsunami put several reactors into nuclear meltdown and led

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to a disaster even more serious than Chernobyl. The Japanese accidents ended up triggering a

huge global anti-nuclear movement such that nuclear energy was no longer considered an

alternative to fossil fuels and instead as a sad legacy of the twentieth century. In 2022, the

European Union experienced the biggest crisis in its history. It began as a financial crisis and

then a global economic crisis similar to that of 2008, but this time Europe was unable to recover.

Major popular uprisings brought down the Spanish, Portuguese, and French governments, and

the Euro collapsed, weakening the legitimacy of the European Union as well. In an attempt to

avoid a political domino effect, European leaders decided to put aside environmental

recommendations. Even very green Germany acknowledged that it would not be able to finance

the transition to alternative energy as it had anticipated, and the market for solar energy, wind

energy, and biofuels came to a screeching halt.

Russia came out a winner from these events. With the explosion in oil and gas prices and the

growing demand coming from China and India, Moscow was able to take advantage of high

latitude deposits in the Lomonosov and Mendeleev Ridges despite their extreme cost, all while

refilling the state treasury coffers and creating wealth for Gunvor and its partners. Granted, there

was a difficult period in 2016-2020 due to a lack of new icebreakers and the exhaustion of the

West Siberia deposits, but the revenue from the petroleum rent quickly allowed Russia to adapt a

Chinese-style policy of massive technology purchases abroad and the acquisition of

technological know-how. In the 2020s, before Gazprom and Rosneft were swallowed up by

Gunvor, they took the lead on exploiting Arctic hydrocarbons in partnership with Western firms

that had lost their exploration licenses at the time of the great retroactive law scandal of 2034

concerning foreign investments. The U.S. and the European Union had threatened sanctions, but

being caught up in dealing with other domestic and global problems they let Moscow establish

itself as the number one Arctic power in terms of the continental shelf, energy resources, and

navigation.

Igor Vassilievich‘s next close ―partner in crime‖ is none other than Mikhail Khudersky, the CEO

of the all-powerful Russian Unified Shipping Corporation. While the world shipping companies

were only getting started in the Arctic, this self-made man – born in Arkhangelsk and passionate

about naval history – succeeded in the early 2020s in acquiring majority shares in the Murmansk

Shipping Company and in the two Severodvinsk shipyards that had just been privatized thanks to

political support from the White Russia presidential party. A visionary, he slowly but surely built

a strategy of Northern Sea Route monopolization, with support from the leading politicians, who

benefited from his financial generosity and political fidelity.

Khudersky became close with Gunvor and Norilsk by offering the two companies low priced

shipping services for minerals, gas, and petroleum, and effectively shut out the Far East Shipping

Company. In 2025, he obtained preferential partnerships with the main Nordic shipping

companies (particularly the Norwegian ones) and the Arctic ports of Canada and Greenland

(independent since 2018). Khudersky‘s business was flourishing, but the shipping volume

remained limited to Russian LNG, petroleum, and minerals going to Europe and a few regular

sea lines traveling the length of the Arctic bridge to the North American continent.

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The story changed suddenly, however, bringing about a reality beyond Khudersky‘s wildest

dreams. In 2032 an explosion of generalized violence seized the Middle East – still mired in the

Israel-Palestine issue, but above all due to the many Sunni-Shiite conflicts of the 2020s. In spite

of a U.S. military intervention, the Suez Canal closed, and when it was officially reopened the

Islamist extremists prevented regular use of the canal and the shipping companies eventually

deserted it. This situation had a negative effect on the energy supply of the Asian powers,

especially China. Moreover, since the 2020s Beijing and Tokyo were also dealing with the

transformation of Indonesia into a base for the World Islamic Jihad, Al-Qaida‘s successor, who

was making the Strait of Malacca virtually impassible.

China, Japan, and Korea, therefore, made a significant shift toward trans-Arctic shipping.

Khudersky became ―Mister Northern Sea Route‖ to Beijing, Tokyo, and Seoul, and Russia‘s

Arctic began to challenge the privileged position of Singapore in east-west trade. Due to the

quasi-closure of the Suez Canal and the instability of the Strait of Malacca, Russia gained several

decades in its growing competition with China. From this point forward Asian energy supplies

were at the mercy of Russian trans-Arctic shipping. Beijing had enough to manage with the

implosion of its central and western provinces and its energy supply to not bother with the

Kremlin. However, Khudersky did not hide his concern regarding the future. He knew that the

Western and Asian shipping companies were preparing themselves for high latitude navigation,

which would cause him to lose a large part of his Northern Sea Route revenues. Yet, the trade

route through the middle of the Arctic would not come to be until at least 2060, so the optimistic

Khudersky hoped to find other sources of revenues by then.

In the late morning Igor Vassilievich also conversed with the CEO of State Electric Corporation,

Boris Medved, who had managed to take advantage of climate change and make Russia into the

number one hydroelectric country starting in 2036. All the major Siberian rivers, in particular the

Lena, Ob, and Yenisei, were accumulating dams and power stations. The electricity produced

allowed Moscow to establish control over Kazakhstan, Mongolia, and Ukraine, and to export to

Asia, while the growing deforestation of the taiga – timber had become a flagship product for

carbon-friendly building material and fuel – was used as an opportunity to build large wind

farms.

These four men – ―Russia‘s national champions‖ – controlled 80 percent of the country‘s wealth,

and their strategic domains were symbols of Moscow‘s rediscovered power: hydrocarbons,

minerals, electricity, and the Arctic transit route. Igor Vassilievich and his three colleagues could

build up and tear down governments, and the ear of the president was always at their disposal. Of

course, the Western media insisted on parallels between Russia‘s Soviet twentieth century and its

Arctic twenty-first century, but Igor Vassilievich was convinced that the mechanisms were very

different. The interaction between the Kremlin and the four major companies was such that it

was difficult to separate public and private interests. The companies‘ objectives aligned with

those of the Russian state, and the profitability of their business served the Kremlin‘s goals of

great power.

Despite the idyllic image of a powerful Russia as his father had imagined it, Igor was fully aware

of the other side of the scene. Indeed, he would set aside his afternoons for dealing with this

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―other side.‖ Every day, he had to meet with the FSB section chiefs responsible for the security

of Norilsk city as well as of the company. In addition to the FSB‘s duties in controlling the

country‘s Arctic borders, the FSB was in close collaboration with the militia for controlling the

population.

Norilsk was not just any city. With a population of 10 million, it was second only to Moscow. Its

urban structure was extremely complex because it was surrounded by dozens of specialized

industrial satellite cities from which groups of engineers went to work their onshore or offshore

mineral extraction shifts in a huge territory spreading from the Yamal Peninsula to Yakutsk, and

from Krasnoyarsk all the way to the Lomonosov and Mendeleev Ridges. To transform Russia

into an Arctic power, the Kremlin had used carrots and sticks. The dependable money from

petroleum, gas, and minerals made it possible to guarantee artificially inflated salaries to the

citizens, which stirred up envy in all of Europe but also helped establish rigid social control.

The pro-birth government policy, which came into full force in 2025, mandated each woman to

have two children and included significant penalties for married women who refused to get

pregnant. As such, Igor would make weekly visits to Norilsk‘s maternity wards to bring public

attention to the heroic Russian mothers. Due to this policy the country had succeeded in

maintaining a population of 120 million, but above all it enabled it to close its borders, thereby

avoiding an influx of migrants from Central Asia and China. Of course, some did manage to get

into Russia, particularly the Chinese attempting to arrive via the north as ―Arctic boat people,‖

but laws were so unfavorable toward companies employing non-Russians that they dissuaded

any massive immigration.

As for the Russian men, their access to alcohol was now regulated – but with limited success,

because, as Igor‘s father would say with resignation, ―you can‘t change nature‖ – and a

significant portion of the male workforce was now working for Norilsk, Gunvor, the Russian

Unified Shipping Corporation, or the State Electric Corporation. Attractive salaries and

technological progress made northern cities like Norilsk more desirable, and even some

European citizens wanted to come and work there. The reigning official ideology, which extolled

a White Russia, accepted European migrant labor but not Central Asian or Chinese.

The white ideology was already starting to appear in the late 2000s, then gained momentum

during the ethnic riots of 2014-2018, and was finally made official by the Kremlin in 2024 as

part of its effort to reestablish popular legitimacy. The ideology was further emphasized when

the North Caucasus region was definitively lost and Moscow acknowledged in 2027 that

Russia‘s border was now north of Dagestan. A portion of the population had left the southern

regions – subject to climate change, separatism, and the risk of terrorism – and headed north.

Millions of Russian refugees had had new lives for themselves in Russia‘s sub-arctic regions.

The loss of the Caucasus region was a painful moment in Russia‘s recent history, but Igor

Vassilievich had long since moved on. His parents‘ nostalgic tales about the pleasures of the

Caucasian spas in the Soviet time never really won him over, and he was always in favor of

creating the strongest border possible between the unstable south and the rest of Russia.

Compared to the terrorist threat, the loss of the Caucasus region seemed insignificant to him, and

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the successful conquest of the Arctic provided Moscow a great trade-off, both on a symbolic and

territorial level.

The idea of a white Russia besieged by ―peoples of color‖ in the south and the east was

reinforced again in 2033 when the Russian population of the Far East revolted against Chinese

migrants crossing the border, and Beijing had to take action so as not to jeopardize its access to

the Arctic shipping lane and REMs. Since then, Russia viewed itself as the fortress of the white

world, and it received support from parts of European and American society that saw in Moscow

an ally they would not have anticipated a few decades earlier. While Europe faced growing

ethnic riots between Muslims and ―native Europeans,‖ and while the U.S. faced English-speakers

protesting against Hispanic domination, Russia appeared relatively well protected and the strict

social order imposed on the population was seen from the inside and the outside as a minor

negative compared to the growing clash of civilizations.

As the day came to an end, Igor Vassilievich could not avoid the agitprop office meeting, during

which he was usually extremely bored. The ideologues of the regime were riding high, as usual.

Boris Tutnev, presented as the new Vladislav Surkov, who had himself been presented as the

new Mikhail Suslov, had just launched a major media campaign on the glory of Russia‘s Aryan

identity. Tutnev passionately explained his theory on the superiority of the Russians – the last

whites to have resisted the domination of the peoples of color, and spoke out against a Europe

destroyed from the inside by Islam and a U.S. that now had a Hispanic majority. At his request,

the Duma just launched a large research project on Hyperborea, and Tutnev was happy to inform

Igor Vassilievich that the white human prototype might be found in the Yamal Peninsula or

around Norilsk, as demonstrated by recent archeological searches conducted since the permafrost

began thawing.

His colleagues‘ enthusiasm for Tutnev‘s propositions put Igor Vassilievich in a bad mood. He

scoffed at the idea of controlling a substratum rich in Aryan prehistoric sites. Already yesterday

he had had to receive representatives from the Aryan religious group – recognized since 2035 –

who had demanded that his philanthropic foundation finance their religious buildings. They even

tried to convince him that climate change should be interpreted as an expression of divine will.

They believed God had blessed Russia with an exceptional future in the twenty-first century, had

caused it to be reborn from its ashes following the Soviet failure, and had transformed areas with

extreme climates into more temperate places – a sign of Russia‘s divine mission.

This ideological baloney really did not interest Igor Vassilievich, and he sometimes even found it

very poorly organized and hardly convincing, but still aware that Russia had to protect itself

from the invasion of non-whites. A true son of his father, Igor was born pragmatic, skeptical, and

also cynical. Like his fellow oligarchs, his number one focus was maintaining his economic

empire, which would mean gaining a better grasp of the costs/benefits balance. Ideological

propaganda and social and moral control over the population were therefore the unavoidable

price to pay for Arctic exploitation by Russia in its role as the last remaining fortress of the white

world.

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Although not fully convinced by the intricacies of Aryan propaganda, Igor Vassilievich shared a

majority view with his fellow citizens: the planet is not infinite, and the geographic positioning

of each state is a fundamental factor in the future of each nation. Rejecting belief in Russia‘s

divine election, the pragmatic Igor Vassilievich believed in the power of spatial factors: size and

location have been, are, and always will be the source of Russia‘s strength, and the Arctic had

now confirmed this unique geographic destiny.

Pathways to the Future

2014-2018: Major riots between ethnic Russians and migrants

2015: Japanese nuclear disaster that calls the use of nuclear energy into question on the global

scene

2016: The UN Commission on the Limits of the Continental Shelf validates all Russian claims

on the Lomonosov and Mendeleev Ridges

2018: Former president Vladimir Putin negotiates his departure from the Kremlin in exchange

for complete political and economic immunity, and makes known that he is the principal owner

of the petroleum company Gunvor

2020: Gunvor benefits from Rosneft‘s strategic errors and acquires the company

2020s: Norilsk purchases the other Russian metallurgical complexes and specializes in REMs,

becoming the number two and then the number one company in Russia due to its investments in

Arctic industrial research

2022: European economic crisis that de-legitimizes the EU and halts the transition to renewable

energy sources, thereby bringing value to Russian energy resources

2024: Ideology of a ―white‖ Russia becomes official

2025: Russian pro-birth policy comes strongly into force, European migrants are accepted, but

Central Asian and Chinese migrants are refused

2025: The Russian Unified Shipping Company takes control of the Northern Sea Route and

develops preferential partnerships with the main Nordic shipping companies

2027: Definitive loss of the North Caucasus region, millions of refugees make their way from the

south to the north, beginning an overall shift northward of the Russian population

2030: Gunvor merges with Gazprom and becomes the number one gas and oil firm in the world

2031: A building resistant to permafrost thaw is inaugurated in Norilsk, a symbol of Russian

mastery of Arctic technologies

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2032: An explosion of generalized violence seizes the Middle East, making the Suez Canal

impassable, and the Asian powers rush to use Arctic transcontinental shipping

2033: Major droughts in southern Russia, followed by popular uprisings, highlighting the

growing importance of Arctic agriculture for Russia‘s food self-sustainability

2033: Russians in the Far East revolt against Chinese migrants crossing the border, Beijing backs

down so as to save its Arctic shipping

2034: Major scandal over retroactive laws concerning foreign investment; The U.S. had

threatened sanctions, but is tied up in the Middle East and also has to manage its complex

relations with Beijing and Mexico

2036: Climate changes make Russia the number one hydroelectric power in the world

2040: Igor Vassilievich, consecrated ―Prince of the North‖ by the Pravda, contemplates his

Arctic empire

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SCENARIO 2

“NOT ONLY POLAR BEARS ARE PROTECTED”: ARCTIC ON ITS WAY TO AN

ANTARCTIC STATUS

In this scenario the Arctic has entered the globalized world much more slowly than anticipated.

Following nuclear and oil-related disasters, the region obtained a specific legal status making it

protected from economic exploitation, which has been partially suspended. Climate change more

chaotic than anticipated has prevented the Northern Sea Route from becoming an effective trade

line. Only the Barents Sea section is active, and Asian trade takes place on the Pacific front.

After significant Russo-European tensions, the Arctic eventually became a space of international

cooperation due to a legally binding Arctic Treaty Organization. Russia tried to pursue resource-

based nationalism in the Arctic, but it did not work. In the end, Russia has only survived through

closer relations with Unified Europe and increasing integration with the Nordic countries. The

Russian political regime reflects the population‘s general shift toward Europe, and it is similar to

those in the rest of Europe – democratic with populist xenophobic tendencies. Most of the Arctic

and subarctic regions are no longer inhabited, except by indigenous populations, while ethnic

Russians have all moved to the country‘s western and southern regions. The North Caucasus

region was lost in the 2020s, but the Far East has not attracted China‘s interest as had been

expected. Russian activities in the Arctic are limited, focused on environmental protection and

preparation for emergency climatic situations. Russia has not become an Arctic superpower, but

a fragile, medium-sized, European-centered power.

Up in his modest office on the 6th

floor of an old building from the 2010s, Igor Vassilievich

Petrunov, CEO of Norilsk Nickel, had been awakened early this morning when his building –

situated on the increasingly unstable permafrost – jolted and shook. He was eagerly looking

forward to the planned move of company headquarters to the modern buildings built by the

Canadian Arctic Building Company, which had successfully worked out a special stilt-mounted

permafrost technique in Alberta and Alaska. Igor Vassilievich was convinced that the Putin-era

buildings were no longer reliable, since Moscow had refused to enforce anti-melting standards

until 2025 even though all Arctic land was subject to the seasonal thaw of underlying permafrost.

And as Russian companies fell behind in technological advances, their Canadian, Norwegian,

and Chinese competitors had managed to master anti-permafrost techniques.

The Norilsk Nickel CEO decided to take advantage of his early morning free time to familiarize

himself with the new evacuation manual for High North industrial operations, which the Kremlin

had made public a few days ago and which every top business executive was expected to know

in case of an industrial or climatic accident in his/her area of responsibility. Like the Russian

Arctic itself, Igor Vassilievich‘s day was going to be somewhat chaotic. Today included the

weekly visit from Rams Peterssen – Norwegian representative of Unified Europe and a sort of

ambassador-at-large for the Russian Arctic – as well as checking in with a few Asian shipping

companies coming through the port of Dudinka. His afternoon would be given over to questions

of emergency preparedness and hosting the international delegation of the Arctic Treaty.

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Russia‘s closer relations with Europe and the increased cooperation between Igor Vassilievich

and Rams Peterssen had taken time to find their ―value base,‖ but they seemed solid now, largely

due to changes undergone by Russia. A succession of events had transformed the situation, and

marked the Norilsk Nickel CEO‘s career.

Taking advantage of the 2014-2015 peak in oil prices, the Kremlin had embarked on massive

exploitation of Arctic resources. Flush with seemingly exponential gas and oil revenues, Moscow

had invested hundreds of billions of dollars toward speeding up the launch of exploitation sites in

the Yamal Peninsula and the South Kara Sea, and then set its sights in an unrealistic way on gas

discoveries in the Laptev Sea and the East Siberian Sea. The big Russian firms‘ international

partners had quickly sounded the alarm concerning the imbalance between resources invested

and the risk of global market collapse, but Moscow did not listen. Indeed, the bright moment had

not lasted. In 2019 Saudi Arabia fell into the hands of the Islamists, thereby destabilizing much

of the Gulf region and brutally increasing Sunni-Shiite tensions. As a large number of petroleum

exploitation sites went to the Islamists – who entertained themselves by constantly changing the

prices and authorized export quantities – Europe, the U.S., and Japan made an agreement to

speed up their transition away from fossil fuels for primarily geo-strategic reasons. Having lost

importance on the global scene, the Middle East made political gains. The partial disengagement

of major powers helped to resolve some nearly century-old conflicts, in particular through the

creation of a viable Palestinian state in 2024. The change in energy strategies gradually gave the

Gulf-based Islamists less influence over the global hydrocarbon market, which, in any case, was

already facing more competition from other energy sources.

For Russia, the blow was nearly fatal. The massive investments in Arctic resource exploitation

suddenly seemed foolish, and the political regime began to falter. There were violent riots in

Saratov between Russian nationalists and the forces of order in 2021 that brought the Great

Russian Power Party to power led by Ivan Trozny, spitefully nicknamed by dissidents as Ivan

Grozny (Ivan the Terrible). His aggressive nationalism accelerated the North-Caucasian crisis.

The whole region sank into instability, controlled by increasingly radical Islamic groups, until

Moscow officially granted independence to the small republics and established a new southern

border in 2026. Since then, the war-torn region was placed under a UN mandate, which did not

really improve the situation. Despite Moscow‘s muscle-flexing and Trozny‘s nationalist clamor,

Russia had diminished revenue and growing debt, and was still in shock at the loss of both the

North Caucasus region and a future with Arctic hydrocarbons. Russia had no choice but to

gradually soften its international position and look to its partnership with Europe for

reinforcement.

Thus, Russia‘s nationalism of the 2010s quickly gave way to an increased cooperation with

Europe from the 2020s onward. Of course, the commercial tensions had not gone away, but

Moscow was no longer in a position to impose it own rules of the game. Low oil prices

prevented new major investments in Russian resources and infrastructures. Only the exploitation

sites in Sakhalin and in the Caspian Sea remained profitable, with all others operating at a loss.

In order to maintain the stability of its neighbor, Europe had agreed to maintain a minimum

purchasing threshold of Moscow‘s oil and gas and participate in the upkeep of the major pipeline

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networks like the Nord Stream and the South Stream. In 2028 Statoil, ENI, Wintershall and Total

acquired for modest sums shares in the Russian Arctic deposits and helped Novatek and Lukoil –

Russia‘s market leaders since the collapse of Gazprom and Rosneft in 2020 – to maintain the few

remaining profitable pursuits, such as LNG and refined oil derivatives.

Europe itself had also changed. The great economic and financial crisis of 2024 had damaged the

European Union structure, which was further accentuated by the European countries‘ growing

inability to manage xenophobic tensions and the influx of migrants. It was thus decided that

Europe would shift to being a confederation with shared foreign policy and defense and a strict

monetary policy that would make the Euro into a successful competitor with the dollar. The

technocracy in Brussels had lost legitimacy as the Parliament of Strasbourg had gained power,

and most Europeans were beginning to view Europe as their natural political identity. This

evolution allowed the last unaffiliated countries like Norway, Iceland, and Switzerland to

become part of the pan-European structure in 2027, already preceded by the independent

Greenland and Faroe Islands in 2022 and the former Yugoslavian states in 2018.

Since the end of the 2020s, Norway had taken the lead in relations with Russia. Empowered by

cooperation with Moscow that was already in place concerning strategic de-escalation,

environmental issues, and the fishing and extracting industries, Oslo even persuaded the Kremlin

to a shared military cooperation for the entire Barents Sea region. Working with Germany,

whose historical role as a European outpost of Russian interests had continued to increase since

the beginning of the twenty-first century, the Nordic countries succeeded in transforming their

relationship to Russia into a masterpiece of overall Unified Europe-Russia relations. From then

on Oslo and Berlin, with Moscow‘s support, campaigned for a complete overhaul of NATO,

which had lost legitimacy after its failure in Saudi Arabia, as well as the birth of a new pan-

Western structure including Russia and Japan that they hoped to firm up at the Summit of Prague

in October 2040.

The Russo-European pairing clearly could not have come to be without the transformation of

Russian politics. Ivan Trozny, triumphantly elected by a people who were in shock from the

energy collapse and pulled apart by xenophobic tensions, had ushered in a difficult nationalistic

period. But European aid for reconstruction, the de-escalation of conflict in the Arctic, and

Russia‘s economic recovery thanks to a long-awaited transition to new technologies allowed a

new generation – Igor Vassilievich‘s age and strongly pro-European – to rise to power at the

beginning of the 2030s. Of course, Norilsk Nickel‘s CEO was fully aware of the fact that the

new Russian democracy was far from perfect. It was still plagued by the evils of corruption and

populism. However, it really was not very different from the situation in Unified Europe at that

time, or from the situation in the U.S. where some White Power groups were trying to organize

anti-Latino lobbies.

The Arctic as a symbol of international cooperation was abruptly accelerated at the beginning of

the 2030s. In 2031, after 20 years of debates and reports, the UN Commission on the Limits of

the Continental Shelf ended up rejecting all of Russia‘s territorial claims on the Lomonosov and

Mendeleev Ridges, attributing part of the continental shelf to Canada. This situation led to a

serious political crisis in Russia. The Kremlin, still in the hands of Ivan Trozny and convinced of

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its rights, threatened to withdraw from UNCLOS and called for a takeover-by-force of the

continental shelf. Igor Vassilievich still wondered, sniggering, with exactly what military and

technological capabilities this would have been possible. The solution ended up coming from the

small city of Nuuk, capital of independent Greenland. Nuuk proposed to make all Arctic

exploitations bilateral or multilateral so that none of the coastal states would feel slighted – an

idea that quickly won everyone‘s support. Ivan Trozny fell out of favor after all of his nationalist

gesticulations, and a ―color revolution‖ orchestrated by Moscow‘s elite brought Boris Petrovin to

power – trained in Moscow‘s mayoral offices by the pragmatic Sergey Sobianin in the 2010s.

Petrovin immediately acknowledged that Russia did not possess the technological capacity to

exploit its own Arctic regions, much less its continental shelf, and he restored Russia‘s

participation in UNCLOS in exchange for international assistance.

The following year, in 2032, the Arctic remained in the spotlight, but for sad reasons. Within a

few months, the collision of a Chinese Arctic oil tanker and an American submarine resulted in a

huge oil spill in the Bering Strait, and permafrost thaw caused a radioactive leak from the nuclear

waste in Novaya Zemlya. Both events served to sound the international alarm. The Canadian and

American coasts of the Beaufort Sea were affected by the oil spill, and radioactive clouds passed

over the Nordic European countries. In an emergency meeting in Reykjavik, the Arctic states

agreed to establish a legally binding Arctic Treaty that essentially brought all resource

exploitation to a halt, because of pressure from public opinion that was increasingly concerned

about environmental security. The regulatory conditions were so strict that only the REMs

deposits remained profitable, making Norilsk Nickel one of the last industrial bastions in the

Arctic.

In 2034 the Arctic Treaty Organization was created, which would manage military operations in

the region. States could no longer organize exercises alone, but only in partnership with at least

two other states. Also, each military exercise had to be related to the soft security issues

prioritized in the organization‘s charter – rescue systems, anti-smuggling efforts, ecosystem

protection, and electronic monitoring of the Arctic via satellites, patrol aircraft, etc. Only

scientific expeditions were still permitted to go out under the control of a single state. Berlin and

Oslo were even hoping to merge the Arctic Treaty Organization with the post-NATO structure, a

symbol of growing Atlantic-Arctic unity. Igor Vassilievich, who had supported Boris Petrovin‘s

democratic coup d‘etat in 2031, did not hide his Europeanist convictions. Educated in London

and Boston, having spent his holidays on the French and Italian coasts, with multilingual kids,

Igor represented this generation now in power, focused on the Western lifestyle.

After having evaluated Russo-Norwegian cooperation in each of Norilsk Nickel‘s various

sectors, and having discussed the next post-NATO congress in which Rams Peterssen was

hoping to present the idea of a U.S-Europe-Russia-Japan strategic union, Igor Vassilievich met

with Kim Pan, the Pan-Asian Shipping Company representative. The port of Dudinka, under

Norilsk since the early 2000s, was trying to benefit from the Arctic shipping timidly starting to

come about, primarily from Asia. For nearly 30 years the opportunity for a new transcontinental

sea-lane had not really made much progress. A few Scandinavian ships would make the trip

during the summer months, but without much conviction because the wind, fog, waves, and

complications coming from summer ice melts made it so the journey was still difficult.

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Moreover, the halt of Arctic exploitations did not encourage the shipping companies to invest

much in this challenging transit.

Only the Asian companies were working to develop the Northern Sea Route at all costs, and they

were ready to pay the steep fees needed to insure the shipping of oil, gas, and minerals,

according to the strict safety regulations imposed by the Arctic Treaty in order to avoid pollution.

The main Arctic shipping company was the Pan-Asian, which was created in 2036. It combined

Chinese and Korean interests – the Chinese shipped the merchandise and the Koreans supplied

the Arctic tankers – and it was operated nearly exclusively by Filipino staff, specialized in harsh

climatic conditions. But their ships rarely conducted transcontinental shipping and were limited

instead to going up and down the Russian coast between Kamchatka and Chukotka. In meeting

with Kim Pan, Igor Vassilievich was reminded of the deep fear that China‘s rise in power had

aroused in his father, Dmitri, but that fear had not become a reality, at least not in 2040. The

Yunnan and Shaanxi revolts of 2025 and 2028, indicative of the Chinese peasants‘ discontent, as

well as the Tibetan insurrection of 2032 had occupied the Chinese authorities for a decade.

Beijing focused on its domestic problems, with encouragement from Washington, concerned

with slowing down its confrontation with China, and to Moscow‘s great relief.

In addition, China found itself entangled in Central Asian conflicts. Beijing had opened a

military base in Osh in 2023, at the time of Kyrgyzstan‘s collapse, and later came to regret the

decision as a pseudo Islamic caliphate had been installed in the secessionist regions of the

Ferghana Valley since 2036. Thus, with the Chinese authorities occupied domestically and on

their northwest front, they backed down from the Far East. There were not more than a million

Chinese migrants in the Russian Far East, managing crop farms and logging operations, and the

fear of a China that would swallow part of Russia that had so influenced Igor‘s father‘s

generation had disappeared. Pragmatically, though, Igor wondered if this might have been a

missed opportunity for Russia – maybe it would have been better for the country to benefit from

the Chinese workforce instead of fearing it. Indeed, China‘s lack of interest in the Far East

revealed Russia‘s lack of relevance on the international scene now that it was no longer an

energy or mineral powerhouse.

Igor Vassilievich spent his afternoon dealing with human and environmental issues. Though he

would have wished it otherwise, many problems in the city of Norilsk were his as vice mayor of

the city. Along with Murmansk and Arkhangelsk, Norilsk was one of the last Russian Arctic

industrial cities that still had a permanent population. More than anything else, this was

expensive, and Igor Vassilievich imagined himself as the last grand industrial and urban

mandarin. Between the gradual halt of all Arctic exploitation and the new technologies that

reduced the need for human beings and instead relied on machines controlled from central posts

that were sometimes several hundred kilometers away, the city of Norilsk did not have much of a

future. Its population had dropped to fewer than 150,000 inhabitants. The 2036 census showed

the Russian population‘s retreat toward the west and confirmed the country‘s incapacity for

demographic recovery. Out of 120 million people, only a few million remained in the Arctic,

subarctic, and Far East regions of the country. The vast Siberian hinterlands had been left to

indigenous peoples, while ethnic Russians all lived in the European and southern regions of the

country.

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Igor Vassilievich had to lead environmental security exercises every month, and Norilsk‘s

residents were used to them, just like the Japanese with respect to earthquakes. Russians were

already familiar with a multitude of environmental emergencies. They had lived through the

quasi nuclear accident of the Yakutsk power station in 2029; the floods that ravaged Saint-

Petersburg in 2032 due to the first tsunami in the Gulf of Finland; and the progressive

disappearance of the port of Arkhangelsk following coastal erosion that had been very visible

since 2038. They knew how to quickly evacuate buildings and infrastructures weakened by

permafrost thaw. Many Canadian and Icelandic delegations had come to Norilsk to participate in

population evacuation trainings, and Igor himself had been trained in Fairbanks – a city facing

similar issues and twinned with Norilsk in 2034.

Norilsk Nickel‘s CEO had therefore watched with concern as the major crises of the Yamal

Peninsula and Ob-Tazov fields unfolded in 2037, the year of the warmest summer ever recorded

since the onset of climate change. Yamal‘s exploitation infrastructures were basically swallowed

up by the earth, and the Ob-Tazov fields, 40 kilometers from the coast, were ravaged by coastal

erosion. The entire Norilsk region, all the way to the Yenisei delta, would probably be next on

the list, somewhere in the second half of the century. Already, some transportation networks

were impassable in the summer, and the only means of getting around was by airplane or

helicopter. At the same time, infrastructures and buildings were weakening so quickly that the

cost of maintaining them had skyrocketed.

Issues of food production and food security, however, were a more immediate preoccupation for

Igor Vassilievich. Russia had broken its drought record for the century once again in 2039, and

crop cover was continuing to diminish. The Arctic agriculture his father, Dmitri, had dreamed of

in the years 2010-2020 had never come to be, due in large part to the new bacteria being

transported by Arctic insects. Fortunately, water was not an issue in Norilsk as it had become in

many major cities, including Moscow. The rivers had sufficient volume in the summer to allow

for collecting and decontaminating reserve water supplies for the year, and Norilsk Hydro Tech

Ltd had even been exporting its drinking water in the Stavropol region since 2037.

Finally, at the end of the day, Igor Vassilievich hosted the international delegation of the Arctic

Treaty, as he often did. And, as seemed fitting for the vice mayor of one of the last Russian

Arctic cities, he offered them a Nenets folklore concert. Since the Arctic Treaty, Russia

essentially converted itself to ecological and folkloric tourism, strictly controlled, in the High

North. But other issues were hidden behind the cultural facade, which Igor Vassilievich was well

aware of due to his familiarity with the mayor, Yurkan Yaq, of Nenets origins. Yurkan Yaq had

taken the lead of the Pan-Russian Indigenous Party, which brought together the Arctic

populations as well as southern Siberian populations, the Buryats in particular. The Party put

forth increasingly autonomist slogans, motivated by the Buryats‘ pan-Buddhist tendencies and by

the increasing demands coming for indigenous people groups in various places. In Canada, they

demanded that the ―white states‖ give the Arctic territories back to their legitimate first

inhabitants. In Russia, the debate had been complicated by the Pan-Russian Indigenous Party‘s

alliance with the Volga-Ural Union, which brought together Russian Muslims.

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Listening to the Nenets music, Igor Vassilievich wondered about the future of the Arctic. In the

past 30 years climate change had made the region partially unmanageable on a technical level,

and recurring environmental accidents had essentially stopped human efforts at exploitation in

the region. On the positive side, Norilsk Nickel‘s CEO congratulated himself for the

international cooperation that had emerged, and for the absence of tensions between Western and

Asian powers concerning the Arctic, each modestly managing its western or eastern side. On the

negative side, perhaps, was Russia‘s loss of hope for an Arctic future – due to its energy failures,

its lack of economic activity in Siberia, and the demographic and political pressure coming from

the indigenous peoples and Russian Muslims. But the negatives were balanced out by the new

political and strategic closeness with Europe. Although the Arctic had not re-established Russia

as a great power, the country had at least become a medium-sized European-centered power. The

hopes placed on the Arctic at the beginning of the twenty-first century had not come to fruition,

and maybe this was actually good for Russia, having become a somewhat dull but ―normal‖

country.

Pathways to the Future

2014-2015: Peak in oil prices that pushes Moscow toward ill-advised investments in Arctic

resources

2019: Saudi Arabia passes into the hands of Islamists, bringing a large portion of the Gulf region

into instability along with it, and violently increasing Sunni-Shiite tensions. The Western powers

decide to discontinue their dependence on fossil fuels

2020: Collapse of Gazprom and of Rosneft following the collapse of the Russian oil and gas

market

2021: Saratov conflicts between Russian nationalists and forces of order, bringing to power the

Great Russian Power Party of Ivan Trozny

2023: Opening of a Chinese military base in Osh, Beijing gets bogged down in Central Asia and

forgets the Far East

2024: Great economic and financial crisis that damages the legitimacy of the European Union,

which then decides to become a confederation

2025 and 2028: Yunnan and Shaanxi revolts, indications of the Chinese peasants‘ discontent,

that keep Beijing occupied domestically

2026: The North Caucasus region becomes autonomous from the Russian Federation and passes

under a UN mandate

2027: Norway, Iceland, and Switzerland join the pan-European structure

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2028: Statoil, ENI, Wintershall, and Total acquire shares in the Russian Arctic resource deposits

for a modest sum

2029: Yakutsk quasi-nuclear accident

2031: The UN Commission on the Limits of the Continental Shelf rejects all of Russia‘s

territorial claims on the Lomonosov and Mendeleev Ridges. Boris Petrovin‘s democratic coup

d‘etat against nationalist Ivan Trozny makes way for new political connections between Moscow

and Europe.

2032: Collision between a Chinese arctic oil tanker and an American submarine resulting in an

oil spill in the Beaufort Sea, followed by a radioactive leak from the nuclear waste in Novaya

Zemlya. Arctic exploitation brought to a halt by the legally binding Arctic Treaty.

2032: Flooding that ravages Saint Petersburg, first tsunami in the Gulf of Finland

2034: Creation of the Arctic Treaty Organization, increased Russo-European military

cooperation

2034: Twinning of Fairbanks and Norilsk

2036: Creation of the Pan-Asian shipping company (Sino-Korean)

2036: Pseudo Islamic caliphate in secessionist region in the Ferghana Valley

2037: Norilsk Hydro Tech Ltd exports drinking water to the Stavropol region

2037: Warmest summer on record since the beginning of climate change: Yamal exploitation

infrastructures are swallowed up by the earth, the Ob-Tazov fields are ravaged by coastal erosion

2038: Progressive disappearance of the port of Arkhangelsk following coastal erosion

2039: Russia records its highest droughts of the century

2040: Oslo, Berlin, and Moscow campaign for a complete overhaul of NATO and the creation of

a new pan-Western structure including Russia and Japan. Igor Vassilievich wonders if the failure

of an Arctic future for Russia was actually good for the country, having become a more

European-centered medium power.

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SCENARIO 3

RUSSIA’S ARCTIC AS A MIRROR OF THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY: POLAR

ISLAM AND CHINESE BUSINESS

In this scenario the Arctic has become a globalized frontier, mirroring the evolutions of the

twenty-first century as a whole. The region has become an integral component of the global

economic system, but the exploitation of hydrocarbons and minerals and shipping along

Northern Sea Route have been slowed down by climate change that was more complex than

envisaged. The excessive price of exploitation in the Arctic compared to the Middle East, along

with new technologies, were not attractive to Western companies, so they remained marginal

actors in the sector. The big Russian companies were not successful in their reforms in the years

2010-2020 and thus could not undertake Arctic resource exploitation by themselves. These two

conditions left the field open to the Asian powers. For China especially, but also for Korea,

Japan, India, and Indonesia, the high prices of Arctic resources are not a problem because their

energy security and geopolitical security are of greatest importance. The Chinese flag now flies

over the exploitation sites, the ships, and the polar scientific stations in the Arctic, and the

technologies adapted to climate change are also from Asia. In the years 2020-2030, Russians

moved to the European areas of the country, the Far East came under Chinese control, with the

wealth of the Arctic being exploited by 30 million migrants. To avoid interethnic riots,

segregation mechanisms have been instituted. The two principal communities of migrants –

Central-Asian and Chinese – are in increasing conflict and their powerful lobbies are clashing.

The Muslims of Tatarstan and the North-Caucasus region constitute a significant part of the

population. Moscow is no longer the master of the development of its Arctic territory and the

geographic fragmentation of Russia as a whole is becoming increasingly noticeable: Russians in

Europe, Central Asians in Siberia, and Chinese in the Far East.

High in his 34th

floor office, Igor Vassilievich Petrunov, CEO of Norilsk Nickel, had been

awakened early this morning when the building – situated on unstable permafrost – jolted and

shook. Even though he was used to it, he could not accept it and always wondered deep down

just how sturdy the Chinese construction really was. Public criticism of China, however, would

not have been appropriate for a man of his position. Since 2035 the majority shares of Norilsk

were held by the All-China Mining Company, so he had to maintain a good image of Russia‘s

new big brother. As such, Igor Vassilievich decided to take advantage of his free time and revise

his speech for later that morning, clumsily practicing a few words of welcome in Chinese. Born

in 2000 and just a few days shy of his 40th

birthday, Igor, like many in his generation, was better

at English than Chinese – a situation now reversed in Russia‘s younger generation of students.

Igor Vassilievich tried to peacefully envision his workday‘s busy schedule. His morning would

be devoted to meeting the Chinese delegation, led by Chengzhang Chu, the Chinese chargé

d‘affaires who held place of consul in Norilsk. In the afternoon, the Norilsk Nickel CEO would

have to deal with the usual commercial headache involving Japanese, Korean, Indonesian, and

Indian representatives who were trying to win Arctic markets, and to whom Igor Vassilievich

would diplomatically try to explain that Moscow‘s room for maneuvering vis-à-vis Beijing was

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unfortunately limited. Finally, a meeting awaited him that he already knew would be rough, with

Faroud Beknazarhodja, the Central Asian representative of the very powerful trade union of

Arctic Industry Migrant Workers. At this early hour of the day, he wondered which he was

dreading more – the meeting with the Chinese or the one with Beknazarhodja, but he could not

decide.

Igor Vassilievich began by receiving the Chinese chargé d‘affaires and his delegation. In

addition to his post at the Chinese consulate of Norilsk, Chengzhang Chu belonged to the

moderate lobby of the Chinese National Unity Party, which had succeeded the Communist Party

once the decision to abandon the communist reference was passed in the 2026 Congress of

Shanghai. Chengzhang Chu was generally reserved with regard to the current nationalistic trends

in Beijing, and he tried to remain pragmatic, which made him likeable in Igor Vassilievich‘s

eyes. But he also had some less pleasant qualities. Chengzhang Chu was one of the main

underground promoters of the Chinese lobby to the Kremlin, created in the second half of the

2010s and having emerged on the Russian political scene as an autonomous group in 2025. Since

then, Russia‘s political life was split into two groups – the Europeanists and the Asiophiles –

taking on once again an age old set-up of opposition, dating from the slavophiles, but this time

with direct consequences on Russian society and not just on national narrative.

Igor well remembered China‘s rise in power, which had taken Russia completely by surprise, but

he also remembered key moments that had changed the balance between the two countries. Ever

since 2022, Chinese politicians no longer hesitated to speak condescendingly about Russia as a

―junior partner,‖ which infuriated the Kremlin, but with no way to retaliate. The facts were

indeed impossible to deny: Beijing controlled the majority of the Russian economy; it had

become Moscow‘s primary competitor in the global arms market; and had easily achieved the

status of the number one power in Central Asia, as the Shanghai Cooperation Organization had

not succeeded in limiting China‘s economic and political expansion in the region.

The balance between Russia and China had shifted definitively at the time of the 2034

Khabarovsk conflict. Tensions in the Far East had already been increasing for several years, with

China exploiting vast amounts of wood from the taiga and minerals and having extended its

network of crop farms all the way toward the Baikal. The 2 million Russians residing in the Far

East had resigned themselves to their fate. Those most wary of the Chinese had left the region

long ago and those that stayed essentially all worked for the Chinese businesses. Mixed couples

had become increasingly common and the local political elite were at the service of Chinese

interests.

In 2034 riots between Chinese and Central Asian migrants in Khabarovsk degenerated when it

was revealed that the Kremlin had been trying to set the two communities against each other.

Beijing then accused Moscow of not being able to guarantee the security of Chinese citizens in

the Russian Federation and demanded joint military control of Primorie, which became a Russo-

Chinese province. Primorie was still attached to Moscow on paper, but it was in all practicality a

dependent of Beijing. A new Bingtuan, perfect replica of Xinjiang Production and Constructions

Corps (XPCC), had been installed there. It was both an armed wing of Beijing and a major

component of China‘s demographic and agricultural colonization. Thus, Russian Primorie served

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as a base of departure for Chinese migrants making their way further north, to Yakutia-Sakha,

Kamchatka Peninsula, and Taimyr Peninsula. The trauma of losing the Far East had created a

major political crisis in Moscow, which led to the radicalization of the two camps (Europeanists

and Asiophiles) and a latent quasi civil war between ruling elites.

Almost everyone in Russia believed that China had definitively revealed its true nature as a

nationalist power, seeking domination over its neighbors, but not everyone had the same reaction

to this new order. The Europeanists sought a European option for Russia with integration into the

European Defense Organization that had succeeded NATO in 2036 and the establishment of

shared economic strategy between Brussels and Moscow so as to create a better counterbalance

to China. The Asiophiles, on the other hand, believed the battle was lost. They saw Europe and

even more so the U.S. as too dependent on China to be an effective counterbalance, and so

believed that Moscow should protect its own interests by playing the card of Beijing‘s loyal

supporter. Igor Vassilievich, however, had never had any hesitations. He was fully aligned with

the Europeanist view and the Party for the Union of Russia and Europe had his complete support.

Nevertheless, he was careful not to make any public anti-Chinese remarks so as not to lose his

position at the head of Norilsk Nickel.

China also achieved a dominant position in the Arctic in the 2030s. Beijing had been a member

of the Arctic Council since 2013 – along with Japan, South Korea, the EU, NATO, and the

United Nations – and had quickly asked to participate in decision-making concerning the high

seas, as they were considered a ―common good,‖ belonging to all nations. China was also in

control on land. Russo-European energy cooperation had gotten off to a good start in the early

2010s, but it had quickly lost its footing due to changes in the international context. In the latter

half of the 2010s, Iraqi oil production took off, Iran reintegrated into the international community

after the 2017 ―Pistachio Revolution‖ and the upset of the Ayatollah regime, and world gas and

oil prices went down. This resulted in the main international majors starting to question the

profitability of the resources in the Russian Arctic, and eventually leaving them due to the 2018

Shtokman debacle and the repeated delays and over-costs of the Yamal mega-project. In the

following decade the difficulties caused by climate change that was slower than anticipated

comforted Western firms in their choice. Only the booming Asian economies could maintain

interest in too expensive Russian Arctic resources.

Ever since the merger between Gazprom and Rosneft in 2015 – initiated by the Kremlin in the

vain hope that the creation of a hardly functional administrative giant would help to recover the

losses experienced by the Russian energy industry – Gazneft Unified had made one error after

another. It refused to undertake the necessary internal reforms and became mired in several

internal conflicts between the siloviki who still controlled the sector. Due to a lack of Western

competitors, the Kremlin had to turn to the Chinese, the only investors still interested. From 2020

onward, the China National Petroleum Corporation invested enormous sums in the Yamal

Peninsula and acquired a large share in the Barents Sea and Pechora Sea deposits, while Sinopec

bought up shares in Sakhalin 1 and 2. Arctic drilling technology, as well as the Russian LNG

market, passed slowly but surely into the hands of Chinese companies. Gazneft Unified was but

a shadow of its former self, controlling only a minority of the Russian oil and gas reserves.

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China also became a major power in Arctic shipping. Beijing had acquired sufficient specialized

know-how from Korean shipyards to establish its own Arctic fleet in the 2020s. Bit by bit,

Chinese shipyards put their own Arctic tankers into the global market, to the detriment of

Scandinavian productions, and Russian shipping companies were gradually bought out by their

Chinese colleagues. From then on China considered itself a first class maritime power, a reality

symbolized by the 2032 Sri Lanka conflict between India and China, which put the two naval

fleets face to face with China emerging as the victor. The Chinese Navy had also become a real

challenge to U.S. sea supremacy. Despite the difficulties that came with climate change, which

kept Arctic shipping hazardous and costly, the Northern Sea Route had become China‘s number

two international sea-lane route in 2039, after the classic Suez Canal - Strait of Hormuz - Strait

of Malacca route.

In the latter half of the 2030s, Beijing orchestrated a masterful coup. Already in control of the

Japanese-led polar research, which had only grown with Chinese financial backing, the Chinese

authorities started arm-wrestling with the U.S. Due to its forex reserves, Beijing claimed a right

of interference in American domestic politics. Within the package of measures demanded in

2037, the Chinese authorities had included the right to use U.S. Arctic and Antarctic polar bases

– a request to which Washington hardly paid attention because it seemed so inconsequential

compared to China‘s demands for a complete reform of the American federal administration.

Thus the Chinese were able to take over the Arctic scientific scene, directing the research

according to their strategic and economic interests. Knowledge had become a key asset in the

balance of power with the U.S.

China took a position of power in the mineral extraction market as well, particularly rare earth

metals (REMs). The wealth of China‘s own sub-soil was no longer enough, and Sung Haseng,

one of the most clairvoyant Chinese politicians, understood already in the 2020s that China

should take control of the Russian REMs market before it could become a competitor. As Igor‘s

father, Dmitri, had explained with sorrow, Russia had really missed the bus regarding

modernization in the years 2010-2020, and the mineral extraction industries in the hands of the

Putin-era oligarchs had fallen like overripe fruit into China‘s basket. Even Norilsk, the jewel of

Russian Arctic industry, had ended up selling a majority of its shares to the All-China Mining

Company. The most accessible REMs deposits in the Kola Peninsula and Yakutia-Sakha had

already reached their peak, and Moscow then needed Chinese assistance to exploit the more

challenging deposits as well as seabed ones. In 2021 the UN Commission on the Limits of the

Continental Shelf recognized a small part of Russia‘s claims on the Lomonosov Ridge (very

modest compared to the original claims), which strengthened China‘s desires to control the

Russian market.

Igor Vassilievich had eaten his lunch in anguish at the thought of the meetings to follow. For

several years representatives of non-Chinese Asian firms had been attempting to lead joint

operations, in Russia and elsewhere. Japan and Korea had been working together for a long time

and had been joined by Indonesia at the beginning of the 2030s. As for India, it presented itself

as the dominant South Asian power, but was slow to win its arm wrestling contest with China.

India‘s dynamic demographics had slowed down the sharing of growth dividends with the

population, and the 2026 localized nuclear conflict with Islamabad had held up the country‘s

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modernization. However, since the 2030s, New Delhi was gaining influence in the world, due to

a tight partnership between India and Washington, signed with great pomp in 2033 by Agata

Mendoza, first Latina president of the U.S.

The non-Chinese Asian consortiums wanted to guarantee themselves part of Russia‘s resources

and avoid a Chinese monopoly. In 2024 Japan obtained a new bifurcation of the EPSO pipeline

toward Japanese territory. After that Japan focused on consolidating its access to Russia‘s REMs

in the hope of limiting its dependence on Chinese exports. As for Korean and Indonesia, they

were essentially interested in rights of passage via the Arctic transcontinental lane. Competition

among Asian shipping companies was fierce, even more so as the security of the Strait of no

longer seemed guaranteed ever since Malaysia had become an Islamic state in 2022.

Negotiations with India included all arenas. New Delhi was just as interested in gas and

petroleum as in minerals and Arctic shipping access. The tensions with China had increased

abruptly after the Indian Oil and Natural Gas Corporation (ONGC) was expropriated from

Sakhalin in 2031, under pressure from CNPC and Sinopec. The struggle for influence between

the two Asian giants then began raging in Central Asia, especially in Kazakhstan. Like Japan,

New Delhi sorely needed Russian REMs. India‘s commercial fleet, in direct competition with the

Chinese one, had been slow in taking interest in the Arctic. For Indian ports, the southern routes

via Hormuz and Suez or the route around Africa remained the most profitable. But India

eventually threw its hat into the Arctic shipping ring so as to better serve the Pacific North and

Europe.

Norilsk Nickel‘s CEO would have gladly helped the Asian representatives toward a more active

involvement with Russia, and he knew he would have the support of the Kremlin‘s Europeanist

lobby, which particularly valued India due to its privileged relation with Washington. But his

position at Norilsk also brought him to know that China continued to consider Russia, in

particular Arctic and subarctic regions, as its own incontrovertible supplemental resource base,

and Beijing would not welcome any competition.

Igor Vassilievich then arrived, his stomach in knots, at his meeting with Faroud Beknazarhodja.

This all-powerful lobbyist, of Uzbek origins, represented the interests of the LWUAI – the Labor

Workers Union of the Arctic Industries – which had nearly 10 million members. His office was

in Norilsk, but he traveled a great deal, anywhere from Murmansk to Yamal, and also had

connections in the Kremlin. Igor Vassilievich was always surprised by Faroud‘s capacity to

combine union demands (salaries, work conditions, rights to travel to one‘s country of origin)

and cultural communitarianism. This time was no different. Faroud had just finished expressing

the grievances of Norilsk‘s Muslims, the majority in the city, who wanted new mosques and the

right for their children to receive primary schooling in their national languages. The Uzbek

leader also snuck in some discrete threats related to municipal autonomy for Muslims in the

Russian Arctic‘s industrial cities. Norilsk Nickel‘s CEO – sure of the superiority of European

culture and condescending toward Islam – wondered how the situation in the country could have

come to this.

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In 2019 Russia established a massive and well-organized migratory policy in order to confront its

lack of a labor force. While the country had only about 10 million migrants in 2010, a decade

later the figure had reached 20 millions, and was over 30 million in 2040. The migrants were

largely from Central Asia. There were 2 million Tajiks, who had been present for a long time; 2

million Kyrgyz, who had arrived in great numbers after the collapse of their country in 2015; and

over 10 million Uzbeks, fleeing the Islamic regime established in Tashkent in 2016. Many

among the migrants also came from China. They had migrated from the poor provinces in north

and central China, where the local economies had been penalized by the last decade‘s climate

change. Finally, there were also some Vietnamese, Koreans, Mongolians, Afghans, and Iranians,

as well as a growing number of rural Bangladeshis and Indians fleeing the poverty. Nevertheless,

Chinese and Central Asians constituted the bulk of the group, and they were also better

organized. The Chinese migrants were several steps ahead of the Central Asians, because

Chinese firms controlled the major Russian businesses and had their own lobby in the Kremlin.

Interethnic violence between Russians and migrants, which was common as of the latter half of

the 2000s, increased in the 2010s. It then took on such proportions – including massive pogroms

in Moscow and Yekaterinburg – that the stability of the country was put into question. The

Russian nationalists, who had growing popular support, became the majority in the 2023

legislative elections, and they threatened the Kremlin and the top oligarchs that they would

plunge the country into chaos if the Russian national identity was not preserved. After several

months of crisis and the threat of civil war, all the political and economic actors agreed to

institutionalize a method of segregation between ethnic Russians and migrants. This angered

Igor‘s father, Dmitri, in his old age. In keeping with his Soviet upbringing, he saw a parallel with

South Africa before Mandela or the U.S. before the civil rights movement, but these historic

references were lost on the Russian population. Indeed, the Russian population accepted the

measure with relief and hoped that from then on they would be able to live well separated from

the migrants.

Starting in 2028, Russia thus established a paradoxical system, in which the majority of migrants

were confined to the Siberian, Arctic, and Far East territories. They were deprived of political

rights, marriages with ethnic Russians were looked down on, and various laws discouraged their

settlement in Russia‘s European regions – although ongoing corruption in the Russian

administration made it possible to sidestep the system. Ethnic Russians, whose population was

predicted to drop below 100 million in 2045, continued to migrate to European regions. As such,

90 percent of ethnic Russians lived along EU borders. They had abandoned Siberia and the North

Caucasus region en masse, while the major Arctic industrial areas were occupied primarily by

migrants. They resided in camps with very basic infrastructure and were sent out to the Arctic

exploitation sites in bi-weekly rotations.

The legally enforced segregation aligned with the geographic segregation. This situation, highly

criticized in Europe, was nonetheless justified by Igor Vassilievich, who saw it as the only viable

solution for the survival of Russians as a nation. The freedom of movement had allowed them to

get closer to Europe, which comforted Igor in his conviction that Russians were a European

people like the others – almost. The North Caucasus region had been maintained at the heart of

the Russian Federation, against all odds. But the North Caucasian and Tatar demographic

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pressure was more and more marked – or, as Igor Vassilievich thought to himself, the Russians

saw their Lebensraum shrinking. If they lost Volga-Urals and North Caucasus, they would be left

with hardly anything more than the former medieval Muscovy. Thus, it was deemed better to

take part in revenues from Arctic resources exploited by migrants, and to leave local Muslims in

control of the Volga-Urals and the North Caucasus, than to lose all these territories.

For several years, Norilsk Nickel‘s CEO had noticed the growing competition between the

Chinese and Central Asian migratory upsurges. The Central Asians, whose younger generations

felt at home in Russia, were asking the Russian authorities more and more directly to institute a

new segregation measure between them and the Chinese. If the Chinese legitimately dominated

the Primorie and the area around Baikal, even Yakutia-Sakha, the Central Asians would claim

the Arctic market from Murmansk to Norilsk and exploitations in the Urals and all of West

Siberia. Polar Islam had become a reality: Muslims were the majority in all major Arctic cities.

Some of the Central Asians were also affiliated with Tatar and North-Caucasian nationalists in

an attempt to create a major North Caucasus - Volga-Urals - Siberia axis dedicated to Muslim

populations, blocking the Chinese to the east and the Russians to the west. The publications

funded by the Central Asian lobby evoked more and more overtly the Kazakh geopolitical

theories that central Siberia and its Arctic coastline were a natural extension of Central Asia.

The only joy that Igor Vassilievich experienced in this day like all the others was therefore

paradoxical. He had gotten wind of growing tensions between Chinese and Central Asians in the

LWUAI. Faroud Beknazarhodja and Chengzhang Chu detested each other cordially and each

wanted to overpower the other. Would Russia come out a winner or a loser from this Sino-

Muslim wrestling match? Igor Vassilievich was quickly brought back to reality, though. The

Russians themselves no longer had the capacity to replace the Central Asians and the Chinese in

terms of labor force and invested capital. The fate of the country was thus to remain splintered,

with Russians in the European regions, Central Asians in their new Siberian Near Abroad, and

Chinese in the Far East. Arctic exploitation and shipping were destined to remain in the hands of

major Chinese firms, in spite of growing competition coming from India.

Yet, these tensions between the Muslim world and the Chinese world were not specific to

Russia. Ever since the 2036 Sino-Arab conflict, Beijing‘s relations with Sunni powers had

deteriorated, to the point that the China-Iran axis began to take shape. When he arrived home that

evening, Igor Vassilievich lost himself in conjectures about what the Russian Arctic had become

in less than three decades: the symbol of a twenty-first century dominated by opposition between

Asia and the Muslim world, in which the Russian population, lacking human capital, had been

marginalized. Without control over its own destiny, Russia had become a globalized playing

field for issues that were beyond its power.

Pathways to the Future

2013: China becomes a member of the Arctic Council along with Japan, South Korea, the

EU, NATO, and the United Nations

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2015: Merger between Gazprom and Rosneft to form Gazneft Unified, without much success

2016: Establishment of an Islamic regime in Tashkent, accelerating Uzbek migration to the

Russian Arctic resource deposits

2017: ―Pistachio Revolution‖ in Tehran, Iran‘s reintegration into the international scene, re-

launch of Iraqi gas and oil exports, global price goes down

2018: Shtokman debacle, repeated over-costs in Yamal mega-project: Western firms gradually

leave the Russian energy market, obliged to turn instead to China

2019: Russia establishes a major migratory policy. Russia reaches 20 million migrants in 2020,

and 30 million in 2040

2020s: China gradually takes control of the Russian REMs market and Chinese shipyards enter

the global market of Arctic tankers

2020: The CNPC invests huge sums in the Yamal Peninsula, then acquires a good part of the

Barents Sea and Pechora Sea resource deposits

2021: The UN Commission on the Limits of the Continental Shelf recognizes a small part of

Russia‘s claim on the Lomonosov Ridge, which Russia then exploits with Chinese firms

2022: Chinese politicians start to speak condescendingly about the ―junior partner‖ that Russia

has become

2022: Malaysia becomes an Islamic state, circulation in the Malacca Strait is more complex

2023: Russian nationalists are the majority in elections and demand that the Kremlin protect the

Russian national identity

2024: Japan obtains a bifurcation of the EPSO pipeline in the direction of its shores

2025: The Kremlin‘s Chinese lobby emerges on the Russian public scene. Russian elites are

divided between two groups – the Europeanists and the Asiophiles

2026: Localized nuclear conflict between New Delhi and Islamabad slows down India‘s ability

to compete with China

2026: The Chinese Communist party decides to abandon the socialist standard in the Congress of

Shanghai

2028: Moscow institutes an ethnic segregation system between Russians and migrants, which

accentuates geographic splintering of the country

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2031: India‘s Oil and Natural Gas Corporation is expropriated from Sakhalin under pressure

from CNPC

2032: Conflict between India and China in Sri Lanka that puts the two naval fleets against each

other. The Chinese Navy challenges U.S. sea supremacy.

2033: Close partnership between New Delhi and Washington, signed with great pomp by Agata

Mendoza, first Latina president of the U.S.

2034: Khabarovsk interethnic conflict. The Russian Primorie comes under the control of the

Chinese Bingtuan

2035: The All-China Mining Company acquires majority shares in Norilsk Nickel

2036: Sino-Arab tensions in the Persian Gulf, Beijing‘s relations with the Sunni world

deteriorate while a China-Iran axis begins to take shape

2037: Due to its forex reserves, Beijing claims the right of interference in American domestic

politics and obtains, among other things, access to all the American polar stations: Beijing thus

controls a significant portion of Arctic knowledge

2039: The Arctic becomes the number two international sea-lane route for China‘s commercial

fleet after the classic Suez Canal - Strait of Hormuz - Strait of Malacca route

2040: Igor Vassilievich reflects on an Arctic that has become the embodiment of a twenty-first

century dominated by opposition between Asia and the Muslim world, and on a Russia that no

longer really has control over its own territory